‘What are these for?’

‘I think they’re meant to symbolize love. The council regularly has to cut through them to stop the bridge from getting overloaded.’

Casey pulls a face. ‘That’s awful. What if it jinxes the couples who left them?’

I’m about to say something about humans being more than capable of jinxing themselves, but what do I know about love? ‘I guess it’s more about the symbol than the locks themselves.’

She nods, satisfied, and now she’s touching the horn shapes on the centre of the bridge and taking a photo to send to her best friend. On this side, the vibe’s more corporate. But there are still cool cafes, and I point to the Watershed, with the funky posters advertising French and Spanish films.

‘It’s like Paris. Or Barcelona,’ she says.

‘Great cities. Have you been?’

‘No. I don’t even have a passport.’

People drink and smoke and vape at outdoor tables and I hope the smell doesn’t linger on her clothes. I stop at the place I’ve chosen. You can’t miss it, thanks to the huge glowing parrot that’s perched outside.

‘This is us,’ I say.

Her face falls, which isn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for. ‘We’re eating here?’

I try to ignore the disappointment in her voice. ‘Yup.’

I give my name to the server – Siobhan, her name badge says – and she leads us past a bunch of families. Families. Is that what Casey and I are? Our table is laid with paper mats for colouring in. I scrutinize everything through Angelica’s eyes and imagine the crayons are crawling with deadly germs.

Siobhan hands Casey a kids’ menu and gives me a slow, sexy smile as she passes me an adult one. I was getting checked out all the time as we walked here. Who knew a kid could make you hotter?

Unrelentingly upbeat music and rainforest sound effects blare out of speakers hidden behind plastic trees. Creepy primates hang from the ceiling and their dead eyes make me feel I’m dying inside, too.

‘Hello?’ Casey says loudly to Siobhan. ‘Sorry to be awkward, but I’m not a child. I am nearly thirteen and, tragically, a brain tumour has stopped me growing properly. So can I have an adult menu, please?’

Ouch.

Siobhan flinches like a startled wildebeest. ‘Oh. Oh no, of course, so sorry.’

I’d usually smooth over any awkwardness with a funny comment, but I’m not sure that’s what Casey wants. Instead I check my menu: it’s all terrible puns and ethically sourced quinoa and avocado.

‘One of your regular places, is it?’ Casey asks.

‘Not exactly. I asked friends with kids for recommendations.’

‘No shit.’ She’s testing me, seeing if I will tell her off for swearing.

‘Seen anything you fancy?’

She drops the menu on the table. ‘No. The food here is rank, anyway. There’s a branch ten miles away from me, in the retail park. We went there for my best friend’s ninth birthday. The waiters sang to her and then we all had a go at the chocolate fountain and four kids threw up.’