He winked at her and grinned. She liked his smile. It was the real McCoy, she could tell. She’d seen enough fake smiles to last her a lifetime.

‘Money’s better in town,’ she said simply.

‘Fair enough,’ he replied without further comment. ‘Come, sit here.’

He shuffled along the bench and patted the cushion next to him. Melissa sat down, too, but she left an arm’s-length gap between them. He shuffled up to her. Blimey, he didn’t waste any time now that he was here. She let him sit closer to her. Their thighs were touching now and she could feel the heat of his body through his trousers.

‘May I have a kiss?’ he asked, and she very nearly snorted. Who asked permission to kiss someone? It was like something out of the Victorian age. Still, now she came to think about it there was something quite lovely about him asking and not just assuming that she was up for it. She nodded, turned her face up to his and closed her eyes. For a second nothing happened. Was he teasing her again? Well, she wasn’t having that. If he thought that he could just take the p . . . And then his lips were on hers, soft and tender as if she were made of petals that might bruise if he were rough. Melissa had never been kissed as gently. It was lovely.

It wasn’t enough, though. She pushed back a little harder, forcing his mouth open with her tongue. She felt his breath quicken a little, but he didn’t respond. He surely hadn’t brought her all the way out here for a chaste little kiss? Melissa pushed herself up against him like she’d always done with the local boys and gyrated her hips, just a little. She heard him let out a little grunt. This was more like it. She knew what she was doing. She might live in a tiny, cold, slightly messy caravan but she was more than capable of flicking a man’s switches.

Then she felt him pull away from her. His hands cupped her face and she opened her eyes. He was staring right at her.

‘Slow down,’ he said, his voice gentle. ‘There’s no rush, Melissa. We’ve got all the time in the world.’

Now she was confused. They were here, together. Her bed was just the other side of the partition wall. Every man she had ever been with would be gagging for it by now, not holding back. Had she done something wrong? Was he gay?

‘But I thought . . .’ she said. ‘Do you not fan . . .’ She stopped mid-sentence. She didn’t know what was going on here, but she wasn’t going to walk headlong into an insult.