‘Yeah.’ And I was. The way his hair fell over his forehead. The braces, so cool and understated. The way his sleeves turned up over his slim dark wrists, the loveliness of the bones there. His eyes screwed up against the blood-red morning sun. The way he held back at road crossings, waited for me to be ready to go over. Mike always dashed ahead and it drove me mad. It seemed natural to slip my hand into his and keep it there. Neither of us spoke. I could almost feel him turning it over in his head – to say the wrong thing now would shatter it all.

‘I’ve always seen you,’ he said finally.

‘I know.’

I didn’t look at him, just straight ahead. It was forming in my mind. When we reached college, we’d have our first kiss. The one we should have had three years ago. The one that would erase Mike, and start everything properly. I’d go travelling with Bill, and it would be so simple, falling into step beside him as I did now. I wouldn’t have to choose, or decide, or ask Mike if I could move in with him in Clapham and look for a job. It would be as easy as choosing one crossing instead of another on a path.

So this was how we were, Bill and I – hand in hand, his fingers stroking the inside of my wrist, me in his jacket – as we approached college. Immediately I could see something was wrong. There were too many people gathered outside on the pavement, spilling out of the lodge and on to the road even, girls wearing jackets as I was or hugging bare arms to themselves, and there was a hubbub of voices, but in the wrong key for the fuzzy-headed joy we should be hearing. And parked by the railings was the yellow and green of an ambulance. I think it was then that I dropped Bill’s hand.

‘What’s going on?’

He said nothing. He was good like that. When there’s nothing to say, and you don’t know the answer, just keep quiet. I saw Karen, her face streaked in tears, which was so unlike her I felt panic gnaw at my stomach. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Someone’s been hurt.’ Her voice was dull and flat. ‘Something happened. We don’t know. They said to come out here.’

Rumours were flying. James Collins, pale as his shirt, said: ‘They found something in the Fellows’ Garden. Someone.’