He pulls open the front door and walks out to the strains of a familiar tune. It’s the one that goes, ‘While you’re living under our roof, you play by our rules,’ and Liam hasn’t got the time for it.

It’s one am and the Junction is heaving. Liam downs half a pint of lager and scans the dance floor. It’s packed with bodies, dancing and writhing to the music – currently Oscar G. & Ralph Falcon, ‘Dark Beat’ – and his gaze lands on a girl, whose boyfriend he served earlier.

The bloke – a posh dickhead with swept back hair and a big nose – had bought a baggie from him after asking in a way so awkward and comical that Liam had almost kept it going just for the laughs. Now he watches said dickhead being comprehensively ignored by the very hot red-haired girl and wonders whether maybe he isn’t the boyfriend at all.

Liam doesn’t usually dance – too sweaty – but as this girl throws back her head, exposing a pale, slim neck, Liam gets a mental picture of biting her there, just gently, enough to make her squirm, and feels a stirring.

She’s wearing a baggy vest top with the Joy Division Unknown Pleasures image on it and a pair of shorts. Her red bra is visible through the arm holes of the top and she weaves her slim arms in the air, twisting and turning them.

Sweat gleams on her skin and Liam finds himself hoping she has been drinking water, then laughs inwardly. Fine dealer he’s going to be, if he starts thinking like his mum about his clients.

Still, maybe this will be a way of talking to her.

Armed with a bottle of mineral water, he makes his way down onto the dance floor until he is next to where the girl and Lord Chumpington are dancing. She is ignoring the other guy, who seems to be looking at her in much the same way a Labrador eyes someone’s dinner.

Liam hovers, moving slowly to the music and avoiding looking at the girl until he is aware she is turning his way. Her eyes are open and glassy and he grins, then holds out the bottle, removing the lid first.

She takes it and has a long drink, throat muscles working, her neck shimmering with the lights bouncing around the dance floor. Handing it back, she gives him a cheeky smile and says, ‘Well. Aren’t you pretty?’

AUTUMN 2018

ELLIOTT

We moved into the living room and curled up to watch some telly after that, both exhausted by the traumas of our respective days.