‘Yeah, I think so,’ says Lauren. ‘Bye, Kirsty.’

Lauren passes the sycamores outside, their dry leaves chattering. A whiny guitar riff slithers from the truck and she catches the shadow of her father, waiting.

As Niall drives his daughter home, he says, ‘What did Angela give you?’, his chin jutting up like a question mark.

‘Top hats.’

He wiggles the back of his free hand by his cheek. ‘Ooh.’

‘Dad! It’s not that fancy!’ He always moans about Angela. At least she made me something, she thinks.

‘’S only kiddin’. Trying to make you smile. You’re like a teenager already.’ Her dad’s face is stony, as it often is, looking ahead at the road, but she can read the tiny margin of difference between anger and irony, like now.

They listen to rock radio without speaking. The headlights track the monotonous black road, spotlighting potholes and rubble. The glowing white sign of the passing place jolts into view again.

Then there is more white, moving this time, as the blurred shape of a woman runs into the road.

‘Fuck.’ Niall pulls on the steering wheel, but they lurch towards a ditch. The pines jump close and Lauren’s scream seems to come from a different girl’s mouth. For a moment she only knows branches on glass, the squeal of tyres and Steven Tyler’s voice.

In the stillness that follows, she notices the pumpkin bucket has fallen to the floor and lollipops are rolling between cans and dog hair on the shredded carpet. Lauren looks up, past the cut-out air freshener ticking back and forth like a metronome. The woman on her hands and knees comes back into view as Niall restarts the engine. ‘I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing’ blares as he swings back on to the road and the headlights catch her, crouching still as a hare, her face bleached out.

‘It’s that lady again,’ Lauren says. Looking more closely at her, lady sounds wrong. She’s too young. Girl isn’t quite right either. She might be the same age as Ann-Marie and Diane, or a few years older, it’s hard to tell.

Her father doesn’t seem to be listening, but then in a distant voice he says, ‘I know who it is.’

He dips the lights and Lauren can make out fair hair, hanging in a clump. The girl-woman rises and takes a shaky step towards them. Her dressing gown has been made for a man and is gaping. She’s skinny and her feet are bare. There are dark marks on her legs. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Lauren asks.

Niall frowns into his large palm as if trying to cover his whole face.