She stalked off before he could answer, heart thudding against her ribcage. When she’d calmed down a bit she stopped by a tree to catch her breath, expecting Dylan to have followed her. But he was nowhere to be seen. She felt a flurry of fear. She was alone, in London, with no idea how to get back to the coach. Calm down, she told herself. She could work it out. Marble Arch. That was where the coach had dropped them off. It would be okay. She took deep, gulping breaths, trying not to panic. As long as she was back before the coach left at five it would be okay.

Flora’s feet hurt as she took her seat on the coach. She’d spent all afternoon wandering around by herself. A kindly old man had pointed her in the right direction and she’d spent the last two hours hanging around the coach area, terrified she’d miss it if she strayed too far.

She didn’t see Dylan get on the coach, and was beyond caring if he came back or stayed in London. She sat near the front, by the window, next to a middle-aged woman who had her head in a book the whole way back. Flora clamped her headphones to her ears, so she could listen to her favourite song, ‘Martha’s Harbour’, on her Walkman. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about him ever again. What a lucky escape she’d had. There were plenty more fish in the sea, as her uncle Leo always said when one of his relationships failed, which was often.

Suddenly she longed to be at home, with her uncle and her mum, Heather and Jess. Safe and warm, away from Dylan and his druggie mates and the fair. She didn’t want to go back to the fair ever again. Behind the bright lights and the loud music there was a rotten, seedy underbelly.