With hands shoved in my pockets and hunched shoulders, I stalk through the city streets, not even seeing where I’m going or watching out for Black Marks, like I always do, to avoid them. Let them stop me! I’ll lay into the first one who tries, gods help me.

There’s a crowd outside a pub. My shoulder knocks into some bloke.

“Hey!”

I’m hurrying on, oblivious, the future pressing down on me.

When I finally look around and take notice of my surroundings, I find myself turning into Emee’s street. Up ahead there is some kind of commotion. Slowing down, I come back into myself. It’s the Director’s automobile, pulling up to the kerb outside the house. People are gathered out front, waiting to greet him. There is the aunt, her face powdered and hands clasped in front of a midnight-blue umbrella of a dress. Several men have stiff white collars propping up their chins.

And there is Emee, hovering beside her aunt. Emee in a golden dress, holding the little dog against her chest, her gaze fixed on the automobile. She is … glowing.

The dog sees me first. Then Emee. She looks, looks away, looks again. She frowns at me, right out in the open and leaning against the wall of a building opposite. My fury and despair have nearly melted away, yet it’s left me feeling coolly indifferent. I don’t care about what might happen to me.

A man opens the door of the black automobile and the Director steps out. The aunt comes forwards, bobbing her head and gushing. The men stand to attention. They all seem ridiculous. And Emee, standing among them all, frowning and pouting.

Then her face clears. The Director has stopped in front of her and I watch as he lifts Emee’s hand to his lips. It’s just a fleeting moment before he’s ushered into the house though it makes a big impression on me.

Promptly, the exclusive crowd follows him inside the house. The curtain dressings are drawn tight, so the people inside are hidden from the street. Some music – guitar and lute by the sounds of it – is struck up.

But outside, left behind on the stone step like a golden mannequin, stands Emee.

She glances back at the house, and for a moment I think she’s going inside. Instead she sets off, on her side of the street, towards the park, and I lope along on my side. She disappears through the entrance that’s framed by the metal arch. The lamps in the park haven’t been lit yet, so it’s gloomy among the grey trees. Immediately I relax, being off the streets and out of sight. It feels cooler, too, after the heat of the streets. Up ahead, under a linden tree, Emee holds the back of her hand to her cheek. She’s been kissed by her true secret admirer.