Thirty metres down the road now, April stops. ‘Is it really so hard for you to believe?’ she asks, marching back towards Will.

‘It’s …’

‘What if it was true? What would you think of me then?’

Will shrugs. He’s being speared in the guts, the way he is when Danny brays about the things he’s been doing with her.

‘Every word of it, Will. All true. I’m the little slapper who shagged her bestie’s dad. What a whore, eh? What do you think of me now? Still want to know me?’

‘It’s …’

‘What, Will? It’s what?’

Something’s on fire inside Will. A homeless anger. A fury that doesn’t know who or what to attach itself to. ‘It’s … OK.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Why did you do it?’

‘Aren’t you listening, Will? I’m a wrong’un.’

‘Shut up. I just don’t understand …’

‘Judge away, Will. Come on. What you got?’

‘I’m not judging –’

‘Why did you do it? That’s what you just asked. Like everyone does.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean –’

‘Can’t you see it, Will? Whatever it is around me? Like my fucking aura or something.’

As it happens, Will is aware of a force field that exists around her – a sphere of influence that, although not visible, he knows he’s within because he becomes somehow nervous yet free of worry all at the same time, and time races by yet his brain is filled with more memories than such a fleeting instant has any business generating. But he says nothing, because he doesn’t imagine this is the sort of aura she’s talking about.

‘What is it?’ she says. ‘There must be something about me that everyone can see. Something dirty. You can see it, right, Will? Like I’m gagging for it all the time.’

‘Please don’t talk like that.’

‘Want an example, yeah? Other day I’m on the train. Like eight in the morning. I smile at this guy when he lets me past. He’s what, thirty? Wedding ring, et cetera. Just smiled at him, that’s all. Next thing, he’s squeezing my thigh, fingers like two centimetres from my vagina, Will. And he’s telling me there’s this place we can go. What can he see? What vibes am I giving out? You’re a man. Tell me, please.’

‘I don’t know. Nothing. You’re not –’

‘Just once. Just once I’d like to be nice to someone. Be warm to someone. And for them not to assume it’s because I’m desperate for them to fuck me. Is that a lot to ask? It doesn’t sound like a lot.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Will says. He doesn’t know where the words came from, but he means it.

‘For what?’

‘I’m sorry that happened to you.’

April looks a little confused. ‘Why are you crying, Will?’

‘It’s …’

‘Will, please.’