He was struck by the redness of her cheeks and her mouth, the knowledge in her very green eyes. He leaned forward, almost toppling towards her. In the same instant she reached up towards him and kissed him on the cheek. He felt his breath catch and had to grip his bike to stop himself from falling forward.

‘I best be off home, night’s going something terrible.’ She moved back a step.

‘No, you can’t, it’s dangerous.’

People were hurrying past them, heads down against the wind and rain. An older woman shouted to them, ‘Get off home, they’ve stopped the film, flood’s coming,’ and she pulled her headscarf tighter still round her neck, bent her head and scurried off down the High Street, splashing through the rain.

‘See?’ he said. ‘You can’t go on your own, there’s a flood coming.’

‘I can, Arthur. I know these streets better than you do. You get back to your mother.’ Was she mocking him?

‘I should take you home.’

‘If you must,’ she said, and strode off towards the East End.

Arthur thought for a moment, dumped the bike against the house opposite and trotted awkwardly after her.

There was no one about now, everyone tucked up at home, sitting out the storm. She darted through the little streets and Arthur struggled to keep up against the rain. He was drenched to his skin, and almost blinded by the rain in his eyes. All he knew was that they were back now, close to the sea; the roar of the water was unnaturally loud, so loud that it crowded out all other thoughts from his head. Finally, she stopped, somewhere down near the East Quay.

‘You can leave me here, it’s all right. You go back. Water’s rising, you better hurry,’ Muriel called to him as he ran to catch up with her.

He had been so desperate to keep up, he hadn’t noticed his wet feet. The street was flowing with pale brown water. It came down towards them in little rolling waves. There must have been a breach.

‘I can’t leave you,’ he shouted at her through the rain.

She leaned in close to him and he could see the outline of her mouth and her eyes still shone.

‘You have to. You get your mother. I’ll be fine. I’m a mermaid, me.’

‘Muriel, please.’ He found himself gripping her shoulders.

She came in close and kissed him on the lips and his heart faltered at the boldness of it. ‘You’re a good one, Arthur Silver. Not like them other ones. I won’t forget.’

And then she tore from his grasp and splashed into the water, hop-skipping through it as if it was a mere puddle, towards the shacks and cottages of the East End.