Flora studied herself in the mirror, applying a little lip gloss, fluffing up her long hair, straightening her ankle-length tasselled skirt. Then she raced downstairs before anyone saw her. She inched open the front door. From where Heather and Jess sat they would see her if she walked down the driveway, so she crept around to the other side of the house, through the bottom section of the caravan park, crawling through the hole in the hedge into the field with the turnstile that led to Jess’s house and the high street. From there it was just a short walk across the next field to the fair. She couldn’t help but break into a run as soon as she’d left the grounds of Tilby Manor, just in case Heather or Jess appeared behind her, her heavy DM boots kicking up dust from the ground.

Even though it was only three o’clock the fair was already in full swing. The company would be moving on at the end of the summer and Dylan with it. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to say goodbye.

The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and along with the crowds and the music, she felt slightly disoriented as she walked through the fair, a shimmering heat haze floating in front of her. She was disappointed to see that Dylan wasn’t in his usual position on the Waltzers. Instead two other guys had taken his place, pushing shrieking girls around to the thump of ‘Pump Up The Jam’.

Her need to see him was so great she felt sick. Where was he? Maybe it was his day off. And then, through the crowds, she spotted him and her breath caught – like it always did on first sighting. He was standing at the candyfloss van talking to someone. Dylan was wearing a linen V-necked tunic top with jeans, a beaded necklace around his throat and leather wristbands decorating his tanned arms. His floppy dark hair fell into his eyes and she thought again – for the millionth time – how beautiful he was.

But then she noticed who he was with and her heart sank.

Speedy. Again. Why was his mother’s boyfriend always hanging around? And he dressed way too young for a man approaching forty.

They looked to be in deep conversation. Speedy was leaning towards Dylan, his narrow face creased in a frown. He was wearing an oversized T-shirt with a large strawberry on the front and Adidas trainers. Dylan nodded at something Speedy was saying, his expression serious, then reached around to a back pocket to retrieve an envelope. He handed it to Speedy, who almost snatched it, then shoved it into his tatty jeans and stalked off. Dylan stared after him, then ran his hand through his hair, looking exasperated.