You forget what it was like. You’d swear on your life you never will, but year by year it falls away. How your temperature ran off the mercury, your heart galloped flat out and never needed to rest, everything was pitched on the edge of shattering glass. How wanting something was like dying of thirst. How your skin was too fine to keep out any of the million things flooding by; every colour boiled bright enough to scald you, any second of any day could send you soaring or rip you to bloody shreds.

That was when I really believed it, not as a detective’s solid theory but right in my gut: a teenage girl could have killed Chris Harper. Had killed him.

Conway had caught it, too. ‘Bloody hell. The energy.’

I said, before I felt it coming out, ‘Do you ever miss that?’

‘Being a teenager?’ She glanced over at me, eyebrows pulling together. ‘Fuck no. All that drama, wrecking your own head over something you won’t even remember in a month? What a waste.’

I said, ‘It’s got something, but. There’s something beautiful there.’

Conway was still watching me. That morning’s tight hairdo was wearing out, glossy bits coming out of the bun to fall in front of her ear, and the sharp suit had wrinkles. Should’ve made her look softer, girlier, but it didn’t. Made her look like a hunter and a fighter, ragged from a bare-knuckle round. She said, ‘You like things to be beautiful.’

‘I do, yeah.’ When she waited: ‘So?’

‘So nothing. Good luck with that.’ She went back to the phone.

Bits of low-level smoochy talk, back and forth: Cant wait 2 c u again. Had THE BEST TIME with u yesterday. U r something special u no that?

‘Gag,’ said Conway. ‘God rest, and all that shite, but what a sleaze he was.’

I said, ‘Or he wanted to believe it. Wanted to find someone he felt that way about.’

Conway snorted. ‘Right. Sensitive soul, our Chris. See these?’

One girl, back in October, had been scraped raw when Chris dumped her. The other one got the message quick enough, sent Chris a fast Fuck you and moved on, but this one: avalanche of texts, begging for answers. Is it bcos of that time in the park??? . . . Is it bcos your friends don’t like me? . . . Was someone spreading rumours abt me? . . . Please please please I’ll leave you alone I just need to know . . .

Chris never got back to her. ‘Yeah,’ Conway said. ‘Just a poor lonely heart looking for love.’

No name, but the girl would need ID’ing. No names anywhere. OMG did you see Amy fall of the skateboard right on her ass thought I was going to get sick lauhging so hard! That was it.

Conway had been right about the photos: not fluffy kitties.

Chris: Send me a pic :-D