He wasn’t looking at her and that was good. She knew better than to hang around a park with a man who was giving her the eye. The newspaper he was holding was quivering in the breeze, its corners whispering gently. Only it wasn’t windy. Not at all. It was curious enough that Scotland was having such a hot summer, but the lack of wind was remarkable.

Meggy sat up and looked more closely. Sure enough, the hands clasping the outer edges of the tabloid were shaking. Not hard enough to make the headlines difficult to read, but with enough movement to remind her of one of the residents of a care home the school had made them sing carols at the previous Christmas. She’d been fascinated by how the human body could sustain life even as it destroyed itself. She had peered into the eyes of one of the elderly men and could see a trapped animal within, still conscious but terrified, looking for a way out. Bugger ‘Hark the Herald’ and ‘Silent Night’. The reality for most of their audience was watching the clock as they waited to die.

The man changed seating positions and flexed his hands one after the other before returning to his reading. He glanced up at Meggy momentarily then looked away again. A brief spasm of his face signalled pain, and she considered going to ask if he was all right. But children weren’t supposed to do that to adults. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, it was regarded as disrespectful. Maybe if he’d been really old, but actually he looked younger than her dad, probably more like the step-bitch’s age. That made her smile. She liked swearing in her head. It was a simple act of rebellion, but Meggy didn’t care.

‘Step-bitch, step-bitch, step-bitch,’ she sang silently to herself.

The man’s violent coughing stopped her. Perhaps he really did need help. Now, he’d put the newspaper down and was doubling over with the force of the coughs. Meggy stood up on the roundabout and checked the distant reaches of the park for dog walkers or joggers, anyone who might offer assistance if the man didn’t stop hacking his guts up soon. She really wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t have a mobile in her pocket. Her father had talked about buying her one last Christmas, but Carmen had said it was more of a teenager present – and Meggy didn’t really need one anyway, as she got dropped off and picked up every day with her own personal taxi service. Her father had, of course, agreed with her step-mother.