‘Prudence, Prudence, Prudence, don’t be such a prude,’ Salvi whispers in my ear and I freeze, as that’s what the poisonous boys at school used to say. I feel that old poison seeping into me, filling me up, flooding the skin beneath my birthmark. ‘You should be so fucking grateful …’

‘What did you say?’

I break away from him. I take my left hand and place it on his chest, pushing slightly.

He laughs. ‘Hey, hey, I’m joking, I’m joking; I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘You said I should be fucking grateful! What did you mean?’ I feel cold, quite cold. Shaun said this to me, when my back was up against that rusty generator at the fair at Finsbury Park. Jonas, in Tenerife, insinuated something similar when he was holding that fucking leaf. Why is Salvi saying this to me?

He laughs again. ‘I simply meant you should be grateful someone wants you so much, that they want to keep kissing you, right in full view of a room full of people. That I want you so much. And I do, I do want you so very very much, dear Prudence.’

‘Funny way of showing it, so far,’ I say hotly, my hand still pressed against him.

‘Oh, darling,’ he says, still laughing. He removes my hand, he nuzzles his face into my neck, he snakes those arms around me, pulling me in close again. ‘You’ll never know how grateful I am. You’re so wonderful … you’re so wonderful in so many ways, you know I can’t get enough of you … Come on, don’t be cross with me; you know how much I like you … We’re so good for each other, you and I. Come on, darling …’

I give in. I give in to the nuzzling and the cooed words and the promise he might be right for me but, as he caresses my neck and holds me tight, whispering over and over again how much he likes me, I wonder what this rollercoaster is that this man has put me on, without strapping me in. Why I am hurtling all over the place, flung from one side of my seat to the other. I have no idea if an up or a down is happening next, with this man. I have no idea where we’re heading.

But I know I don’t want to get off.

CHAPTER 38

On the way out, Dad has a fall. According to him, it was his ‘own stupid fault’. It wasn’t. It was the fault of a drunken bloody idiot who wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped over Dad’s cane. This made Dad lose his balance and he went into an un-rectifiable wobble I couldn’t hold him from, and he staggered backwards, against a young couple who were talking about geocaching, and on to the floor. Salvi helps him up.

‘Are you all right, boss?’