‘Hit me with it, mate, I’m eddy for renything!’

‘I’m serious, Danny. Look, you need to . . . Wait. Can you just take off that bloody— well, that admittedly rather cool thing, first. Come on.’

The cape I’d ingeniously fashioned out of a Clash Revival tribute band poster was definitely cool, and it was hanging off my shoulders by the skin of its teeth. I’d spotted it down the alley near the pub as I was leaving and had, amazingly, managed to peel it off in almost one piece. I’d immediately declared to a few passers-by that I humbly dedicated the feat to the magical superpowers of rock and roll, and attempted a minute’s silence in honour of Joe Strummer, during which everyone, including me, lost interest.

With Dom’s help, I removed the now shredded poster and shoved it in the corner behind the front door. In hindsight, though, maybe I should have tried summoning those rock and roll superpowers for another shot because, despite Dom’s best efforts at trying to prepare me, I definitely wasn’t ready for the surprise in the kitchen.

4

Danny

The girl sitting at the kitchen table was wearing a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses that looked like late-seventies NHS (so probably bang on trend) and a faded black Bob Dylan tour T-shirt, circa 1974 – which I know because it said, Bob Dylan and The Band, Tour of ’74. She looked about thirteen and wouldn’t even have been a twinkle in her grandfather’s eye when Dylan was knocking on heaven’s door and rolling like a stone, but the more retro the better these days, it seemed. Sometimes I wondered if I could be verging on fashionable myself.

She didn’t say anything at first, and it crossed my mind that if I took just a few more steps I could be through the back door and out to my shed, bypassing the need to even find out who she was. It was quite tempting, but Dom was right behind me and he gently pushed me in the small of my back, so I had no choice but to step forward into the kitchen. Just for a second, though, I leaned back ever so slightly into the scaffolding and it felt lovely.

‘Danny, this is Wolfie. Wolfie, Danny.’

The girl stood up and walked around the table to me.

‘Hey there. Wolfie, is it? Hi. Cool name and, may I say, cool T-shirt. Dylan’s the business. Great taste, babe.’ Shit, no, not babe. She was just a kid and that could definitely have sounded creepy. ‘No, no, not babe. Definitely not. Shit, sorry, I . . .’

‘Dad says Danny calls ladies babe because he don’t remember their names.’

Dom coughed loudly and put his hand over George’s mouth. ‘Shush, George.’ I counted down in my head. Three, two, one . . . ‘And it’s doesn’t remember.’ Bingo.

George is a prime grass and never lets an opportunity pass him by, but in this case, Dom wasn’t entirely wrong, so I decided to let it slide. It didn’t seem to have fazed the girl, though, whose name I definitely did remember, by the way. She put her head down and looked at the floor, but I saw a slight smile when she pulled her fringe down over half her face and extended her hand. It was touch and go, but at the last minute she changed direction slightly to compensate for my wobble and we connected. Her fingers were very small and slightly clammy.