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‘Al ready for tomorrow? Got everything you need?’

‘Yep!’ he replies with a note of satisfaction, his eyes bright.

‘Kit, thank you for this evening,’ I say. ‘You were – you were a good sport, you know.’

For a moment he appears unsure how to respond to such praise. He looks embarrassed and then smiles. ‘Yeah, wel, watch out. Entertainers usualy charge for their services, you know.’

I give him a friendly shove and, as he disappears up the ladder, a giant speaker under each arm, I realize that the five-year age gap between us doesn’t feel like quite such a chasm any more.

Never before have I seen Kit quite so eager to go to school. If only it were like this every day, I think ruefuly. After devouring his toast in three bites, downing his juice in two gulps, he grabs his packed lunch from Lochan and dashes out into the halway to gather up the rest of his things. When he returns with his bags, I look at him in his new khaki jacket, bought especialy for the occasion, at odds with the holey jeans he refuses to part with and the torn sweatshirt several sizes too big, and feel a pang. His sandy hair is uncombed and he looks pale from too many late nights – skinny, vulnerable, almost fragile.

‘Did you remember to pack your mobile charger?’ I ask him.

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Remember to cal us when you arrive, al right?’ Lochan adds. ‘And, you know, maybe again at some point during the week, just to let us know how you’re getting on.’

‘Yeah, yeah. OK.’ He slings the strap of one bag across his chest, the other onto his shoulder.

‘Have you got the money I gave you?’ Lochan asks.

‘No, I spent it.’

Lochan’s eyes widen.

Kit snorts with laughter. ‘You’re al so gulible!’

‘Very funny. Just don’t spend it on cigarettes or you know you’l get sent straight home.’

‘Only if I’m caught! Right, I’m off!’ he yels before Lochan can respond, banging his way down the hal.

‘Bye-bye!’ Wila cals after him. ‘I’l miss you!’

‘Bring me back a present!’ Tiffin yels optimisticaly.

‘Have fun and be good!’ Lochan shouts.

‘And careful!’ I add.

The door slams, shaking the wals. I look at the kitchen clock, catch Lochan’s eye and laugh. Half past eight: has to be some kind of record. One down, I think with growing anticipation, two to go. After a forced breakfast, Tiffin starts bouncing around, saying it doesn’t matter if we’re early, Freddie won’t mind, we have to go! Wila takes refuge on my lap, picks at the dried cereal in her bowl and debates whether spending the whole night at someone else’s house is actualy such a good idea after al. Especialy given that she doesn’t like the dark, that she sometimes has nightmares, that Susie might not share her toys, that four blocks away is actualy quite far if you decide you need to come home in the middle of the night. Lochan turns from the sink to look at us with an expression of such horror that I can’t help but laugh.

It doesn’t take me long to remind Wila of the benefits of spending the night with a friend from school who not only has a garden and a Wendy house, but also, apparently, a new puppy. Wila perks up and suddenly decides her new plastic tea-set wil almost certainly come in useful and runs upstairs to add it to her bag of toys. As soon as she leaves the room, Lochan turns from the sink, up to his elbows in foam.

‘What if she changes her mind?’ he asks, stricken. ‘She’s never been for a sleepover before. She could throw a wobbly in the middle of the night or decide she wants to go home as soon as it gets dark. We’d have to go and pick her up—’

I laugh. ‘Don’t look so worried, my love! She won’t. Tiffin wil be there, she adores Susie and there’s a puppy, for chrissakes.’

He shakes his head with a slow smile. ‘You’d better be right. If the phone rings, I’m unplugging it, I swear to God—’

‘You’d do that to your five-year-old sister?’ I gasp in mock outrage.

‘For one whole night alone? Jesus, Maya, I’d sel her to the gypsies!’

Laughing, I go out to fetch something from the hal table. ‘Guess what I’ve got.’ Gleefuly I hold out my closed fist.

Lochan gently takes my hand in his. Uncurls my fingers. ‘A key?’

‘Mum’s key. I slipped it off her key-ring when she dropped by last weekend to pick up some clothes.’

His face lights up. ‘Whoa, smart move!’

‘I know! She’s hardly likely to turn up, but now we know that even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get into the house!’

‘Pity we can’t lock her out for ever!’

After dropping the kids off at Freddie’s, I run like I used to when I was a child – wild and fast and free. My shoes splash through muddy puddles, spattering my bare legs with dirty spray, and old ladies, hunched under umbrelas, move hastily aside to let me pass, stopping to turn and stare as I go tearing by. The bland white sky unleashes hard, thick cords of rain, a freezing wind lashing the hard spikes against my face, making my skin sting. I am completely drenched, my coat flapping open, my shirt almost transparent, my hair dripping down my back. I continue running faster and faster. I feel as if I’m about to be caught by the wind, lifted up into the air like a kite, and sent dipping and swirling high above the treetops towards the distant horizon. I have never felt so alive, so brimming with freedom and joy.

Slamming into the kitchen, I raise my arms in the air. ‘Wow.’ I stare at him, happiness threatening to burst from me like a stream of effervescent bubbles. ‘I can’t believe it. I literaly can’t believe it. I thought this moment would never come.’

Lochan starts to laugh.

‘What?’

‘You look like a drowned rat.’

‘Thanks!’

‘Come here!’ He darts towards me around the kitchen table and grabs me by the wrist. ‘Kiss me!

’

I laugh and tilt my head up as he raises his warm hands to my face.

‘Ugh, you’re freezing.’ He kisses me softly, and then a little harder. I’m aware of my hair, dripping al over him.

‘Let me get changed then!’

I turn and run upstairs to my room. As I retrieve my towel from beneath the pile of clothes, Lochan comes in and leaps onto my bed, then turns round to sit with his knees drawn up, his back to the wal. I rub my hair and dry my face, then peel off my soaked skirt, grappling with the top button with one hand, bending over to rummage for a pair of jeans with the other. Unable to find them, I realize that my button is stuck. With a sigh of annoyance, I stop and pick at it with my nails. I’m aware of Lochan getting up from the bed and coming over. ‘Jeez, you’re even more useless than Tiffin!’

‘It’s because it’s wet! I think this stupid shirt shrank in the rain or something.’

‘Hold on, hold on . . .’ His warm hands brush against mine, tugging gently at the sodden material. Shivering, I drop my arms by my sides and feel his fringe tickle my forehead as he leans towards me, head lowered, breath warm against my neck. His eyes are narrowed in concentration as, beneath his insistent fingers, the button finaly starts to loosen. He continues to fiddle with it, his head stil bent, and I can feel his breath quickening, heat radiating from his cheeks. The top button comes undone, and without looking up, he starts unfastening the next.

I am standing very stil, acutely aware that neither of us have spoken for several minutes. A strange hum seems to fil the air like an unspoken thought hanging between us. Lochan is intent on undoing my shirt but seems to be having trouble, his hands unsteady. I watch his face carefuly, wondering if we are sharing the same thought. When he gets to the third button, my shirt flaps open, revealing the top of my bra. I hear Lochan’s breath quicken as he continues to work his way downwards in silence, concentrating on his task. The edge of his hand brushes against the top of my breast; he is undoing the last button now and I’m aware of the rapid rise and fal of my own chest, the touch of his fingers through the thin, wet fabric raising gooseflesh al over my skin. My shirt fals open and he slides it off my shoulders, letting it fal to the carpet. Reaching for my bra, he suddenly stops, one hand hovering above my breasts, and from that one moment of hesitation I know.

‘It’s OK,’ I whisper, my voice suddenly weak. ‘I want to.’

His eyes dart nervously to mine, the blood hot in his cheeks, his expression a mixture of fear and longing. ‘Realy?’

‘Yes!’

Tears and laughter swirl together inside me. I stroke my cheek against his gently, so gently that his skin feels like the wings of a butterfly. I close my eyes and move my lips lightly across his face, barely touching, so that my whole mouth begins to tingle. He closes his eyes too, takes a long deep breath and lets it out very slowly. My lips folow a path down his neck, into the holow beneath his colarbone. His fingers tighten around mine and he lets out a smal gasp. Raising my head, I softly kiss the corner of his mouth before moving away across his face. His mouth folows mine and I tease him, refusing to alow our lips to meet, until his breathing quickens and he releases my hand to cup my cheek and coax my mouth towards his. We finaly start to kiss – soft, gentle, fluttery kisses. Shivers of pleasure run through my whole body and his hand trembles against my cheek. His breathing deepens, he wants to kiss me harder, but I resist, trying to draw this out for as long as I can. He touches my face, runs his fingers over my cheek, and we continue our smal, feathery kisses, skin against skin, so warm, so familiar, so gentle, until he reaches up behind my back and unhooks my bra. He strokes my breasts with quivering fingers, circling my nipples, sending nervous shivers of excitement through me. Eyes fixed, brow narrowed in concentration, he seems to be holding his breath. Then, suddenly he emits a smal sound, the air exiting his lungs in a rush. Tentatively I reach for the bottom of his T-shirt. When he doesn’t protest, I pul it gently up and over his head. As he reappears, hair ruffled, he brushes his fingertips across my skin, kissing my breasts. I un-button his jeans and he inhales sharply, his body immediately contracting beneath my touch. His breath is hot, fast and damp against my cheek and he reaches for my mouth, kissing me harder stil. As he draws me towards him, a strong tremor runs through his body and into mine. His arms tightly encircle me, and the warmth of his chest pressed against me makes me gasp. He is kissing my neck, my shoulders, my nipples, breaking off to take in smal gulps of air, his hands on my breasts, my stomach, inside my knickers, pushing them down my legs. I slide them off and step out of them, then reach for his boxers and pul them down. He kicks them from around his ankles and then we are standing together, naked together for the first time in the bright light of day.

How amazing to be together like this with the door open, the window open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze! The rain clouds have passed and the sun has come out and everything in my room seems white and bright. Lochan reaches instinctively for the door handle, and then stops himself, laughing. And suddenly it’s as if al the laughter and happiness in the world is right here, right here between us in this room. Our love, our first taste of freedom – even the sun seems to be beaming down its approval – and I finaly feel that everything between us is going to be al right. We won’t have to hide for ever: people wil accept, people wil have to accept. When they see how much we love each other, when they realize we were always destined to be together, when they understand how happy we are – how could they possibly reject us? Al our struggles were so we could reach this point, this exquisite moment – finaly holding each other, touching each other, kissing each other without fear of being caught, without guilt or shame – sharing our bodies, our beings, every part of our souls.

He folows me onto the bed, lying down beside me and continuing to kiss me, stroking my nipples with his fingertips, licking my neck. I touch his penis but he puls my hand away, breathing hard.

‘Wait—’ He stares at me, his taut body thrumming against me like a live wire. ‘Maya, are – are you sure?’

I nod slowly, a touch of fear creeping into me. ‘Wil it hurt?’

‘If it hurts, we’l – we’l just stop. Al you have to do is say stop. I’l be realy careful, I wil, I promise . . .’

I smile at the fervour in his voice. ‘It’s al right. I trust you, Lochie.’

‘But only if you’re sure . . .’ His hands are like vices round my wrists, stil trying to prevent me from touching him.

I take a deep breath, as if preparing to launch myself into a void. ‘I’m sure.’

Our eyes lock together, sealing a silent agreement with our gaze, and in his face I see reflected my own fear and longing.

‘Did you remember to get some—?’

‘Yes.’ He raises himself quickly off the bed and disappears from the room. Moments later, he returns with it in his hand. A panicky flutter rises in my chest. Without a word, Lochan sits down with his back to me and starts fiddling with the shiny purple wrapper. Lying against the pilows, I pul the duvet over me. My heart is slamming against my ribs. I can’t believe we’re actualy going to do this. I watch the smooth, white curve of his spine, the sharp angles of his shoulder blades, his ribcage rapidly expanding and contracting, the muscles in his arms tightening as his hands fumble between his legs. I notice that he is trembling.

Finaly he turns back towards me, his breathing shalow and rapid. I lean in for a kiss and we lie back down on the bed, his mouth fierce and urgent against mine. This time he is on top of me, propped up on his elbows, rubbing his face against my cheek. I run my hands up and down his stomach and feel him shudder. Tentatively I move my legs apart and draw up my knees. I feel it prod my thigh.

‘Further up,’ I whisper.

He has stopped kissing me now, his face inches above mine, concentration etched between his brows as he shifts slightly, trying to find the right place. After several near misses, he leans over to one side and reaches down to try and guide it in. His hand knocks against my leg. ‘Help me,’ he whispers. I reach down and, after what seems an eternity, get it to the right place. I withdraw my hand and immediately feel myself tense. Lochan presses against me; I wince in anticipation: this is never going to fit. For a moment nothing happens. Then I feel him begin to push his way inside me. I inhale sharply. Lochan’s face hovers above mine, staring down at me, his breath rapid and laboured. His eyes are wide, green irises flecked with blue. I can make out each individual eyelash, the cracks in his lips, the sweat beading on his forehead. And I can feel him inside me, his body trembling with the desire to go further.

‘Are you al right?’ he asks shakily.

I nod.

‘Can – can I keep going?’

Another nod. It hurts, but that’s not important right now. I want him, want to hold him, want to feel him inside me. He begins to push further. A sharp stab makes me flinch, but then suddenly he is al the way in. We are as close as two people can be. Two bodies, blended into one . . . Lochan is stil staring down at me, an urgent look in his eyes, emitting ragged little gasps. He begins to move slowly back and forth, his elbows sunk into the mattress, clutching at the sheet on either side of my head.