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toilets were on the other side of the station past the shops and near where he’d been. The teenage boys were shouting and throwing things up at the lights now, and two of them were having some kind of wrestling match. Rosie waited, hoping the urge would go away, but after a while she could ignore it no longer. She put her book in her pack and walked briskly towards the toilets.
    The ladies was at the end of a brightly lit passage, and the flat white light was flickering violently by the time she got to the end of it. The toilets were empty; the long mirror on the wall reflected only her nervous face and the row of open cubicles opposite. They smelled of antiseptic and recyc water. The floor and walls were all white and two of the toilets’ sliding doors were hanging off their hinges – weird for such a wealthy area.
    Rosie grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a sweaty mess. Her hair was curling up from the heat and her fringe badly needed cutting. It was almost in her eyes. She sighed and turned away and went into the second-last toilet from the end and was just flushing when she heard the soft slap of bare feet on tile. She froze in the act of putting her bag on her shoulder and stood listening. She couldn’t hear anything but she was sure the person was still there. The lights wavered and the faint sound of an announcement came muffled through the walls. Something about the Banks shuttle being delayed. Typical.
    She cautiously turned the lock and slid the door open. Her anxious face stared back at her from the mirror.
    “Idiot,” she muttered. There was no one there.
    Irritated, she left the cubicle and washed her hands, then tried to comb her thick hair straight with her fingers. It didn’t work. She was frowning at the freckles that stood out against her tanned skin when one of the doors hanging off its hinges moved and a body came flying out. Rosie drew breath to shriek, but the boy’s long dirty fingers clamped over her mouth.

CHAPTER 7
    Rosie struggled but the boy was taller and stronger. His hand tightened over her mouth and he squeezed her against his chest and dragged her back into the cubicle. She tried to kick him in the shins but missed.
    “Cut it out. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
    Rosie struggled harder. She jerked her arm back as hard as she could and was satisfied by a loud grunt as her elbow connected with his ribs.
    “All right,” he said. “I’m going let you go. Just don’t scream, okay?” She nodded. He took his hand from her mouth and stepped back between her and the open door of the cubicle.
    Rosie tried to wipe the feel of his dirty hand from her mouth and backed away until she felt the cold bowl of the toilet against her legs.
    “What do you want? I haven’t got any money.” She held her bag close against her body.
    He looked offended. “If I’d wanted that, I could’ve snatched it when you were taking a leak. You left the strap lying on the floor.”
    He’d been in the next cubicle when …? The boy gave her a slow smile and Rosie went pink.
    He was taller than she remembered, but it was definitely the same boy. He was still wearing the same filthy jeans and stained T-shirt – surprisingly, he didn’t smell bad – but it was the eyes that confirmed it. Up close they were even bluer and more disconcerting than before. And right now they were looking at her with lazy amusement.
    “What do you want then?” she said.
    “Maybe I just wanted to catch up, talk about old times by the river.”
    “By attacking me?” Rosie said. “And where is my friend’s bag, by the way?”
    “Sold it.” He leaned against the wall. “But don’t worry about that. You’re going to be busy. You’ve got a date to keep.”
    “I’m sorry, what?” She folded her arms.
    “My boss wants to see you. He says you’ve got something that belongs to him.”
    “I haven’t got anything that isn’t mine,” Rosie said.
    But the boy shook his head. “He says you got it