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going to the cinema again.
    ‘
Herbie Goes Bananas
,’ I said confidently, trying to ignore the crimson creep from my collar.
    ‘I see,’ said my father, slightly deflated and puzzled. ‘Well, that’ll be good, won’t it, going out with friends?’ He looked meaningfully at my mother, pleased no doubt that I finallyhad friends, but she was concentrating on cutting me a slice of cheesecake. I tried to nudge her hand a little to make the slice bigger, and she did so with a sigh and shake of her head.
    ‘I’ll take that one,’ said my dad. ‘Give the boy a smaller bit.’ Nothing got past him.
    ‘Just be home by midnight.’
    ‘Midnight?! But we don’t even know who these people –’
    ‘No more about it, Lydia.’ Dad closed the subject.
    Midnight. Janey Mackers, I was amazed. I’d never had a curfew before. I hadn’t needed one, but midnight seemed generous. Thanks, Dad. But now I had to go through with the date with Helen. I was pretty sure it was an actual date. In less than twenty-four hours. I was partly looking forward to it and partly terrified.
    Preparing for a first date was tricky. I knew this from the cover of
Jackie
magazine in the newsagent’s. There were ten steps to it, apparently. I could guess two of them: fresh breath and flowers.
    After some thought, I decided that, while there might be ten steps for a girl, there could only be two for a boy. I was on top of the fresh breath. After we left Trisha’s, I had bought myself a new toothbrush and some Euthymol toothpaste, even though it practically took the mouth off me. I figured that if it was that painful, it must be more effective.
    Flowers. It was November. There were, however, some nice pink and white carnations blooming in my father’s greenhouse that I raided late that night while my parents watched the
Nine O’Clock News
. I wrapped the stalks in some tinfoil and put them gently on top of my schoolbooks in my satchel.
    On that fateful Friday, my father gave me £2 after breakfast and told me to enjoy myself. Money was a huge issue in ourhouse at that time. Dad’s accountant, Bloody Paddy Carey (it was the only bad language I ever heard my father use), had absconded with our money a year previously. Dad was furious about it. We weren’t allowed to tell anyone. The accountant had been a close friend, or so my father thought. Carey had several high-profile clients who had been badly burned, and the story had been all over the media. So far, my father’s name had not been mentioned publicly. He was extremely stressed about this; he was mortified that Bloody Paddy Carey had made a fool of him, and that he might not be able to keep my mother in the style to which she was accustomed. We had had a full year of shouting and slamming doors, and endless talk of tightening our belts. So to get £2 out of my dad without even having to ask was most unexpected. I thought that maybe I could buy shop flowers now, but since I already had some, it would be a waste. I wasn’t sure what I should spend the money on.
    By the time the final bell rang in school, I was almost sick with anticipation. Even the idea of an alternative to the usual Friday night ritual – homework, dinner, watch
Bonanza
and
The Dukes of Hazzard
on television by myself, then the
Nine O’Clock News
and a chat show with Mum, a snack and then bed – was exhilarating. Dad usually went for dinner and drinks with colleagues on a Friday. Mum didn’t like socializing and was always at home. But this morning, Dad had made rather a big deal of the fact that, since I was going out, he would spend the evening at home with my mother. The significance of this only became clear much later, after the policeman’s knock on the door. For me, at the time, it meant that I could not back out of my arrangement with Helen. It would require too much explanation, and I couldn’t bear to see my father’s disappointment.
    At last I stood on the doorstep of Helen’s home. It was ina housing estate