The problem with baths is that you can never be sure you’re really getting clean. Because the old water circulates, it doesn’t go anywhere. You scrub yourself with soap but all the bits that come off with the soap stay in the water. The water goes murky with them. And if the bath is too hot, and you begin to sweat, where does the sweat go? It stays in the water and might come back and cling to you. But on the other hand, you can be certain in a bath that the water is reaching every bit of you. But now you understand why I shower both before and after a bath. I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

I was in the bath on the Sunday night after the event at the golf club. It was a good place to think. I’d had one brief text message from Ritchie. Sorry, it read. That was early Sunday morning, about three o’clock. When I read it, I knew immediately what must have happened. Raiding the cars and trashing Mr Singh’s Merc was the gang’s idea. Ritchie was powerless to stop them.

In which case, why hadn’t he replied to any of my texts? Maybe he was lying low, until the heat was off. Perhaps his phone was switched off, or he lent it to his mum or something. I hated having to wait around like this. It was horrible, bottling up everything I felt.

I’d decided I wasn’t going to think about any of what happened on Saturday night until I was with Ritchie. Replaying it in my mind would drive me mad. There was no point. Analysing your feelings is the kind of pathetic thing my mum would do.

But I couldn’t stop the pictures in my head. White, distraught faces. Donna, the head waitress, sobbing, because she didn’t know how she was going to be able to get her car fixed. Mr Singh striding back into the hall, saying his car had gone. And the question he asked: “What have I done wrong?” The policewoman who came into the kitchen looking so concerned, saying we were free to go.

My mum had wanted to know all about it on the way home. Then in the morning Julia had rung with the news about the Merc. She said they were treating it as a race-hate crime. Mum said people who do that sort of thing are the scum of the earth, lower than animals. To attack someone because they are a different race or religion was stupid and ugly. She got quite worked up.

I just concentrated on acting like normal. I had to protect Ritchie, which you’ll agree was reasonable, because I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have done such a thing. I did notice that Mum’s anger made her come out of herself a bit. In the past few weeks she’d been getting back to normal. And Julia had persuaded her to part with some of her hard-earned cash to go away for a weekend for a massage course. It gave me a jolt to realise how quickly that weekend had come around – it was next Saturday, in fact. I had insisted to Mum I didn’t mind her going away, and it was true. I quite like having the house to myself. But for some reason, right now, I wished she wasn’t going. I just wanted her to be around. Just around.

Whenever I did think about Saturday night, I controlled my thoughts by saying:

1) I didn’t do anything;

2) Ritchie probably didn’t do anything;

3) The gang was after Mr Singh anyway and there was probably little I could have done to prevent it.

Then I would think about something else. I made myself. I had to.

I was glad to go to school on Monday because I could concentrate on my lessons. There was a big debate in the formroom about whether Janette had lost her virginity. I smiled but didn’t join in. She’d been going out with a twenty-year-old bloke, so everyone thought they were sleeping together. There was a science test later so some people were testing each other, or cramming as much in as possible alone at their desks.

It was English next, Macbeth again. Everyone was moaning because they all hate Shakespeare. So the teacher was really trying hard, trying to make it exciting. She was going on about how Macbeth ordered the killing of Macduff’s wife and children, and how brutally it was carried out. She read out the scene with Macduff hearing the news, and how he couldn’t take it all in. Her voice was breaking. Then she said it showed how evil Macbeth was, to arrange the killings of innocents.

I said how did she know Macbeth ordered it? She said because he was after Macduff. But I said, it doesn’t say anywhere in the play that Macbeth wanted the wife and children killed. Maybe the murderers took it on themselves to do the killings without permission, because they were the evil ones. Maybe Macbeth would be shocked when he found out what happened.

The teacher said, “Technically you could be right, Anna. But I think it’s unlikely, don’t you? Macbeth had got used to killing, used to blood. By that stage in the play he was only thinking of himself.”

“No, Miss,” I said. “What about Lady Macbeth – he was thinking of her too.”

“You have a point. But what Shakespeare is trying to say is that evil breeds evil.”

“But it was an accident,” I said.

The teacher looked puzzled. I noticed my hands were dirty and made a note to go and wash them at the end of the lesson.

In Maths I felt my phone vibrate in my blazer pocket. When the teacher was writing on the board I checked it. Ritchie. He wanted to meet me in the afternoon. Four thirty. At Moor Park gates. At last.

I’d had time to go home first and get changed into my jeans and a fleece. Ritchie was waiting for me. I saw him before he saw me. He was just stubbing out a cig. When he looked up, there I was.

“You all right?” he asked me, smiling.

I smiled back. It was just so good to be back with him again, and I realised how much I’d missed him.

“Yeah,” I said. It just bowled me over, how good-looking he was. I know it sounds silly, that I’d known him so long and didn’t see that in the beginning. But there’s a kind of beauty about him. His eyes are greyish-brown. When he smiles, it’s as if he’s trying not to smile, but can’t help it. His hair had grown quickly and it covered his scalp like dark fur. I wanted to reach out and stroke it. Instead I linked arms with him and we walked into the park. We were unremarkable, just any boy and girl.

“Let me tell you what happened on Saturday night,” he said.

“OK.”

“After I saw you, I went back out to where we’d parked the Micra and there was Tanner throwing up in the bushes. I don’t know whether the drink had disagreed with him, or what. But I reckoned he was the only one small enough to get in through the window. Loz got really irate then, cursing and that. It was Woodsy’s idea to get the Merc, cos he said he’d be able to recognise it.”

“Mr Singh was all right, Ritch. He was nice to me.”

Ritchie threw me a sidelong glance, then carried on with his narrative. “There was some gear in the back of the Micra, spanners, cans of paint. Loz knows how to spray the CCTVs so they can’t operate. Anyway, he and Woodsy were at the cars then. Loz knows what to do because of his brother. So when they’d got a couple of radios and some bits and pieces, Woodsy found the Merc. There was no alarm or anything, so it was easy. Woodsy and Loz drove away in it, and I got Tanner up from behind the bushes and took him back in the Micra.”

Even though we’d begun to walk uphill, my legs were light with relief.

“So you weren’t involved, Ritch?”

“Only a bit – otherwise, well – you know.”

“Yeah, I understand. It was good of you to look after Tanner.”

“Yeah, well. He’s a mate.”

“I like Tanner,” I said.

Moor Park is huge. I heard it said once it was the second-largest park in England. There’s a bowling green, a golf course, a boating lake, a children’s zoo, and even then, in the middle, there’s a vast expanse of grass. From the top you can get an amazing view of our town. That was where we seemed to be heading. It’s funny how the higher you get, the smaller your problems seem. Perhaps because people look tinier, and their concerns are tinier.

We sat down on a bench at the highest point.

“Look, Ritchie, I don’t think we ought to have any more to do with Loz and Woodsy.”

“Why not?”

I was surprised he had to ask. “Well, they didn’t stick to the plan. And if we’re a gang, then you’ve got to obey orders.”

“But the plan collapsed when Tanner was ill.”

“Yeah, but we made it clear at the meeting that we’re doing what we do without hurting people if we can help it, and targeting people who deserve to be hit, and helping the needy!”

“Sure, but sometimes someone’s going to get hurt. That’s the world we live in.”

“Ritchie, no. Someone vandalised Donna’s car – it was an old Mini and she can’t afford to get it fixed.”

“That’s tough,” he said.

“And Loz is racist.”

“A lot of people are.”

“But it’s wrong!” I could hear myself pleading. I sort of wanted to argue with Ritchie but at the same time I couldn’t bear to. That’s why there was this strange whining note in my voice.

“Look, I’m not defending what they did, Anna. But they got jumpy, sitting in the Micra for so long. It was, like, bound to happen.”

“So you’re saying, we’ve got to accept that not everything will work out the way we want it to? There’s bound to be mistakes?” I was struggling to understand.

“That’s right.” He smiled at me. I was encouraged.

“It’s like collateral damage!”

“You what?”

“Collateral damage,” I repeated. “You know, in war, when the army bombs civilians by mistake, or fires on friendly aircraft.”

“You’re clever, you,” Ritchie said approvingly. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Brainy Anna.” He dug me in the ribs.

What I like about Ritchie is that he respects me, see. Some boys are put off if girls come across as clever.

“I’m still gutted for Donna,” I said. “And I’m not sure Woodsy was right about Mr Singh.”

“Forget them now, Anna,” he said, and that was when he kissed me. A kiss tasting of the cold outside air, of cigarettes, of Ritchie. I gave myself entirely to it.

He said afterwards, “They didn’t get us. The cops, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said, nestling against him.

“Nothing and no one can get us.”

It certainly felt like that, sitting on the bench overlooking Moor Park. Beneath us was a dark blur of trees hiding the boating lake from view. You could just about see the main road, and further in the distance were the tower blocks of Fairfield, and hundreds and hundreds of rooftops. Only we mattered.

“You’ve got to be one step ahead, you see,” Ritchie said. “If you use your brains, you won’t get caught. You’ve got to have nerve, too. Nerve is important.”

I was only half listening to him. I was content just tuning in to the rise and fall of his voice. As I did, I was thinking how happy I was at this particular moment in time, alone with Ritchie, the past successfully behind us, the future what we would make it. The consciousness that Ritchie cared for me – that I had a boyfriend – just overwhelmed me. I could have cried from happiness.

“We’re not like the others,” Ritchie said.

“So we can just drop them?”

“Not entirely. We need Loz. Well, his brother. Did you know his brother was a squaddie?”

“I don’t know much about your mates,” I said, just enjoying the sound of his voice.

“There’s not much to know. Loz lives with his brother. He moved in with him after he came back from Bosnia – he lifted loads of stuff while he was there – he’s a right criminal. You see, Loz’s mum ran off with some bloke and went abroad. When he was five. He was in care for a time but then when his brother shacked up with this bird, they took him in. Then she walked. I don’t know who’s living there now.”

“What about Woodsy?” I asked.

“He lives with his gran and his dad. His gran can’t get out of the flat because of her arthritis. His dad’s a lazy bugger, can’t be arsed to do much else except watch the box with a few cans, know what I mean? Woodsy stays round at Loz’s, most nights. What else? Tanner you know about.”

Tanner was bullied and beaten up till he was unconscious. That was a year after his mum died. I knew he lived with his aunt and cousin. It was all pretty depressing. When you think about it, it was hardly surprising lads like that went off the rails. I decided not to blame them. And then there was Ritchie himself. His life hadn’t exactly been a bed of roses either.

It was as if he was reading my mind. “Me and Wendy – we’re going to see him tonight.”

“Your dad?”

“That bloke, yeah.”

“What – I mean, does he know … ?”

“No. Wendy’s been watching him. She knows he leaves the office around six thirty. We’re going up there and she’s going to have a word.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just asked simple questions.

“Where’s his office?”

“On the Calder Fields Industrial Estate.”

“Are you scared?”

Ritchie shrugged. “Not scared. But sometimes I feel as if I could … Anna, I know. Let’s go taxing afterwards.”

The word thrilled me. I caught my breath.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Why not?” he echoed me.

We moved off the bench together, almost racing down the hill. Then I had an idea. “Ritchie,” I said. “You know something. My mum’s away this weekend.”

“Is she?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you come over to mine?”

“I might just do that.”

“Bet you can’t catch me!” I cried as I ran off from him. Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved running downhill. I can run pretty fast. I dodged between the trees, confident Ritchie would run after me. Then out on to the path again. Running, running. And then into the children’s playground, not caring what people were thinking, dodging through the swings. And into the bushes. That was where he caught me, grabbed me from behind, and I struggled but he was stronger than me and he pushed me down on to the ground. I protested I’d get dirty. We rolled around together for a bit and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. He didn’t. He just seemed to want to pin me down, and for a moment I was frightened. I could feel the suppressed violence in the hands that held me down. What was happening here? My heart was pounding. I struggled out of his grip, got up and brushed the leaves off us. Ritchie just laughed. Normality was restored. I looked down at myself. Luckily I wasn’t in too bad a state.

I checked my watch. It was already six.

“Shouldn’t you be meeting your mum?” I asked. I showed Ritchie the time.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’ll come with you. Then we can go off after that. I’ll wait at the top of the estate. I’ll be OK.”

The truth was, I wanted to be there for Ritchie. I thought this meeting might be difficult for him. I hoped his mum wouldn’t mind.

Ritchie was still for a moment, considering my offer.

Then he said, “Let’s go.”