Charlie realised Brad would take this as far as she let him. She groaned with satisfaction – this amazing-looking guy wants me – but at the same time she wanted a pause button. Charlie was about to tell Brad to stop when one of the skateboarders over the far side yelled.

‘Cop cars!’

‘Pigs are coming.’

‘They’ll send me back,’ Charlie gasped as Brad let her go and glanced behind.

Kids were streaming through the torn-out section of fence, but cops with flashlights picked some of them off.

‘Try this way,’ Brad yelled, bumping panicked kids as he grabbed Charlie’s wrist.

Behind the changing rooms, the skateboarders had pushed a stack of loungers up against the fence, making an easy climb. Brad lifted Charlie on to the stack. The loungers wobbled as she hesitated over the eight-foot jump.

‘Jump or get out of the way,’ a panicked kid shouted, the pile of loungers shifting precariously as he pushed past.

As Charlie dangled and dropped on the outside, Brad was fearless, placing his foot on the fence and landing with a parachute roll. The cops and their flashlight beams were closing, but as Charlie found her feet the next person to jump caught her ankle and sent her sprawling.

‘Look where you’re going,’ Brad shouted.

‘Up your mother,’ the skinny kid shouted back.

‘What you say?’ Brad shouted, grabbing him by his hood.

He was properly weedy and no more than fourteen, but Brad punched him viciously in the face.

‘Hey!’ Charlie yelled, her ankle in excruciating pain as she tried to walk.

‘I’ll stomp you into the ground,’ Brad shouted, kicking his much smaller opponent, who already had hands cupped over a bloody nose.

Brad’s eyes were manic as he turned to Charlie. ‘Come on.’

‘My ankle’s twisted,’ Charlie gasped, almost falling as she tried putting weight on it.

The first cop had arrived, but went for the dazed kid Brad had thumped.

‘Piggyback,’ Brad said, crouching down. ‘Put your arms round my neck.’

‘I’m gonna puke,’ Charlie said, close to tears.

Brad backed off as Charlie lurched forwards and sprayed the dirt. He looked around, clearly thinking about abandoning her.

‘I don’t know the way,’ Charlie said pleadingly, her mouth strung with vomit.

Brad sounded angry. ‘Get on my back. Stop dicking around!’

‘I can’t help feeling ill,’ Charlie whined.

‘You drank half a pint of whisky before we even arrived,’ Brad said, as he lifted Charlie up and started a wobbly run. ‘And you’d better not spew on me.’

18 BLOODSHOT

Pungent anti-viral gel evaporated from Harry’s hands as he rapped on the door of 16A.

‘Charlie, it’s me. Are you awake?’

‘Door’s open,’ she groaned.