Shane doesn’t turn around. Instead he picks up a Wall’s sausage roll and flips it over a few times. Then he wipes his nose again with the same hand.

Rob says, ‘Should he be doing that?’

‘Do you want to order this Melody whatsit?’

‘Shouldn’t he buy that first?’

Shane is unwrapping the sausage roll. He holds it in both hands as he rips a corner of the cellophane wrapping with his teeth. Then he pokes his tongue inside the wrapper and dabs it against the pastry before taking a big bite. His black curly hair is still wet from the rain, and a droplet of water hangs on the edge of his fringe.

‘Shouldn’t you do something?’

I reach out and grab Rob’s collar. It feels cold and rubbery, not what I expected. I expected soft cowhide, smooth beneath my fingers. I lean over the counter and whisper in his ear, inhaling the sweet smell of his hair gel. ‘Do you want to see me tonight?’

I let go of his collar and he blinks. I smile and nod at him. ‘Tonight,’ I say in a loud voice, ‘eight o’clock.’

I dart a quick look over at Shane, who stops eating the sausage roll.

‘Down the pools. OK?’

Rob’s mouth goes slack.

‘OK? Eight o’clock. The pools.’ I say again.

Rob steals another peek at Shane.

‘OK, Rob?’

When Rob’s closed his mouth and finished looking first at me, then at Shane, he nods once, says nothing, and walks out. He walks quickly, his hands jammed in his pockets. And I let Shane follow him, sausage roll unpaid for.

A dousing of hairspray, a flick of lipstick, and I’m done. I decide on a pastel green mini-skirt and matching cap-sleeved T-shirt for my date with Rob. It’ll be cold, so he’ll get the odd glimpse of nipple if I leave my denim jacket undone.

Walkman on. I should find a new tape to play, but Frankie will do. Walking through Calcot is the same every time, even to the beat of ‘Relax’. Wherever you are, you can see the outline of the power station above the trees. Great big things, those towers. So wide I can’t imagine how many people you could fit in one of them. More than there are in this village, or our school. Much more than that. I went there once, for the Open Day. Me and Mum had hot dog after hot dog while Dad drank beer on the grass. There were rides and games, but what I remember most is the smell. Thick and metallic. I won a cuddly banana, bright yellow. ‘I ask you,’ Dad said. ‘What would anyone want with a cuddly banana?’

But I shouldn’t think of Dad, because he said he’d phone and he hasn’t.