I stealthily manoeuvred myself around a couple of white vans to get a better view and in doing so accidentally kicked a discarded can of beer, which rattled and clanked as it rolled under a van. I turned my gaze towards the stranger just in time to see them extinguish the candle with one sharp breath. I stood stock-still with all but my head obscured from the creeper’s view by the body of one of the vans. I could sense the stranger’s glare upon me and wondered if I should just sprint back up the stairs to my flat and safety.

After a minute or so, I saw the figure light the candle again and shuffle away from the tree and into the open. I took the chance to hide myself fully behind the van. Crouching down, I made my way along the row of parked vehicles, emerging about fifty feet further up the service road. The creeper was now bent down next to the plinth where the see-saw used to be and I was now near enough to hear their voice almost chanting the words ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’

It was Grace, and I could tell from her voice that she was sobbing.

I stayed hidden away until I saw her walk back to the stairwell and disappear into the block. It had seemed like a private moment that I had no right to disturb. I retrieved the dongle and went back up to my flat. Eventually sleep took hold of me. In my dreams, Tommy beat me to within an inch of my life with a large watermelon while Emily and Lassoo stood watching on.

20

It was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning when I awoke, so I walked down to Grinders to get Emily some coffee and treats for her breakfast. I replaced the dongle in its hidey-hole and then found a secluded spot behind a row of garages where I could destroy the laptop unseen. I threw it against a brick wall Frisbee style a few times at full welly and it soon fell apart. I put the debris in a nearby bin, apart from the piece I guessed might be the hard drive, which I popped through the bars of a gully drain in the road.

It was still early when I arrived at the coffee shop and Wayne had no customers. He was wearing a tight yellow T-shirt with the slogan ‘DON’T ASK’ on its frontage.

‘Hi, Wayne, how are you doing? Or am I not allowed to ask?’

‘You are allowed to ask, and I’m doing just fine, thank you. Why are you looking so chuffed with yourself?’

‘Do you remember that girl I told you about that I met in the pub?’ I replied.

‘Vaguely.’

‘Well, she spent the night at my flat. Can you believe that?’

‘Not really, Gary. Not unless she was under duress or off her tits on something.’