‘I might be.’ I know I am blushing, the redness sweeping into my birthmark and making it inflamed. There’s no point trying to hide it. I know, at the sight of him, that I instantly forgive him. That I want him. I am grateful. I am forty-eight years old; there are limited chances for me left, in this life, and I want to live it. I want to live it on the edge – his edge – standing on a precipice at the top of a tall building, my arms outstretched over a winking night skyline, vulnerable and precarious but knowing I won’t fall, as he is standing next to me. I’m so happy he is on my doorstep. That he has come back.

‘The fair’s on, at Finsbury Park. I’d like to take you.’

‘Oh, right.’ I’m on that edge already, then. Shaking. Looking down.

‘I know you said you don’t like fairs, but you’ll be going with me.’ He shrugs merrily. ‘It’ll be fun!’

I gulp nervously and hope he doesn’t notice. The Finsbury Park fair. I had vowed never to go back there again. The bright lights, the smell, the music. The grip of that man … But he won’t be there, will he? I’ll be with Salvi, like he said, if I agree to go. I’ll be safe, won’t I? And maybe I can erase that night from my past. Do it over, somehow, with him by my side.

‘Yes. Fancy it? Your local fair? Shame to miss it.’ He’s grinning at me. The running out on me, the ghosting – none of it has touched him. He’s back again, asking me out, not a care in the world … Saturday night? Isn’t that when Dad and Kemp are going to that stupid reservoir?

I have one final chance to say ‘no’. Call his bluff and say, ‘No, thank you,’ to his picking me up and putting me down. His mind games and escapology. And all the fun of the fair. No, thank you, Salvi.

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Sounds great.’

‘Fabulous. I’ll meet you by the Ferris wheel at six thirty.’

‘Yes, OK.’

‘See you then, Prue.’

‘Bye, Salvi.’

I close the door. As I come back into the living room, Dad looks up from his podcast and removes his headphones.

‘Who was that?’

‘Salvi.’

He nods.

‘I’m seeing him on Saturday night. The fair at Finsbury Park. While you and Kemp are messing around at that reservoir, sitting in hatches, I’ll be on the Ferris wheel.’ Better to be out in the open, I think. No secrets. For once. Although I can’t really see me on the Ferris wheel …

‘Sounds good.’

‘I know you don’t like him, Dad, but tough cheese. You know?’