I’d just been to a martial arts display at the old scout hall past the docks. Not the sort of thing that happens often in Roslinnon – or the sort of thing I go to on an average Saturday – but I’d really enjoyed the moves in the show, recognising quite a few of the basic techniques from the self-defence lessons I’d been having. Most of the audience was male and much older than me. I’d caught a couple of guys staring at me during the interval and, what with that and the way the hall stank like the boys’ changing room at school, it was a relief to be heading outside. As I left the scout hall, I saw the two men who’d been staring at me earlier standing on the pavement. They were watching everybody leave. For a second I wondered if they were looking for me . . . waiting for me. Then I shook myself – told myself not to be paranoid. It was drizzling with rain, so I pulled my hood up and headed for the internet café on the high street where I was going to message Theo.
