A place where I regularly found myself was on the corner of a park that, although recently named for a local man, was sat between the Neolithic long barrow, the junction of 5 ancient roads, and the borders of four estates (two new ones and two old ones). Sometimes I was there on my own, but often I was there with girls. Girls who lived in my street, girls who went to my school, exchange students from France and Germany. The endless balletic manoeuvrings of young men desperate to impress and conquer young women and young women who seemed desperately unimpressed and remained unconquered. So we continued to circle each other warily, although the high temperature and the sun meant our hearts weren’t always in the chase. Those days when we were just mates and not circling like Montagues and Capulets were better days, calm and relaxed and amusing and satisfying.
On one evening in August, I was there alone. This wasn’t as scary as it sounds now. There wasn’t really any reason to be worried - even the low level of post code (or at least “estate”) gang mentality we experienced had given up in the heat, and there wasn’t any knife crime or drug dealers that we knew of. So it was just late, and, although I was going to get told, I wasn’t going to get punished. The world was winding down, but the sky was deep red and darkening into another hot night with the promise of more of the same tomorrow. As I turned from admiring the sky, there was a girl there. “Ain’t you cold?” she said. She was pretty, fair haired, nearly as tall as me, lithe and wearing a white linen dress. There was a faint perfume, summer flowers and something else, darker perhaps. She didn’t sound much like an overspill kid, but then nor did I. I dithered. “Eh, no, not really” Not exactly oozing charm then. She laughed confidently. “No, nor I” she said “What’s your name?”