I slow as I approach the parkland opening out at the end of the street. Dim outlines of play equipment, twisted statues in the moonlight. A bench. And … sharp gasp as I stop.

Two figures. Ponytails, puffy jackets, cloud of smoke. Flash of patent shoe, pair of ankle socks.

My heart thumps like a fist in my chest. I knew she’d be here. She’s basically a teenager, isn’t she? A tinkle of laughter, a cackle of delight. Not even trying to hide it. I don’t need a mirror to know I’m blushing, hard as blush can go, waves of the stuff coursing 119through my skin. I shuffle one more step forward, two, in spite of myself. Just so I can hear them. Just for a second.

‘…So I said to her, Mum, I think I’m actually allergic to strawberries…’

Another hoot. I smile, cheeks stinging. Or is it my eyes?

‘Mich, seriously! Strawberries are allergens, they make your eyes swell up and everything, and we eat them all the time, it’s her favourite dessert. It’s perfect … look…’

They hunch, a blue screen flashing in the dark.

‘Wow, you’re right.’

‘See? She looks like a cabbage-patch doll … boxed as they come.’

A babbling stream of giggles. I inch closer.

‘Let’s roll another. We’ve got time, haven’t we? They’ll be asleep by the time we come in, anyway. No need to eat all her strawberries…’

Sniggers, rustling paper, suddenly pungent sweet smell. I tense.

‘Where’d you get this?’

‘From Adam. He practically gave it me for free.’

A flash of flame; more thick, sweet smell, curling across the air like a beckoning finger.

‘He fancies you, that’s why.’

‘I know, silly. So why wouldn’t I milk it? Do you want a blowback?’

The hiss of an inhale, a puff of smoke. Another step forward, irresistible finger.

‘It’s resin, he said. It may as well be pure oil. Straight off the boat from Morocco, apparently.’

‘And we’re all going on a summer holiday…’

Singing dissolving to snorts, jerking ponytails, waving hands. Just one more step.

‘Did you see Kat at school today? She looked shocking.’

I stiffen. Kat?

‘She’s anorexic, she is. Totally. Ava told me she’s been chucking up at break for months.’ 120

‘She must be, right? It’s either that or doing those laps all the time, round and round and round, the running track’s basically a mud bath. Like that guy, what’s his name?’ Clicks fingers.

‘What are you on about?’ Hiss, inhale, hiss.

‘You know, that film…’

‘Film? How much have you had?’

‘Oh shut upppppp…’

Ponytails whirl as a can clatters away from my foot and two pale, tense faces are suddenly staring at me.