Page 106 of When We Were Young

Scott must sense I need distracting. ‘How’s what’s-his-name?’

‘Who?’ He means FHD, but I’m still having trouble with his name myself.

‘That guy you’re seeing – the dad from school.’

‘Oh, Billy.’ I’ve never called him Billy. ‘He’s fine. He got me the job at the café.’

‘So, are you an item now?’

My cheeks grow hot. ‘Of course not.’

I try Liv’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail again. Scott says nothing for a while and when I look over, he’s frowning.

‘What’s the matter?’ I ask.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road. ‘Nothing.’

Twelve minutes pass. I know because I count them on the clock. Then he lets out a long sigh. I’m expecting him to say something about Liv, but out of nowhere he says, ‘What’s this Billy like, then?’

Why is it so difficult to think of something to say about him? ‘He’s nice.’

‘Nice?’ Scott pulls a face. ‘What does he do?’

‘Do?’

‘For work. What’s his job?’

‘He’s in IT.’ I’ve made him sound boring. I don’t know why, but now I feel the need to big him up. ‘He’s interesting… you know, easy to talk to, funny… he’s a brilliant cook… oh, and he’s into paddle boarding.’

Scott sets his mouth in a tight little line and nods. It must be enough to satisfy his curiosity because he says nothing for the next hour, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

At last, I spot a sign for Beatland. ‘Look, there’s the entrance.’

‘That’s for deliveries.’

‘It doesn’t matter. We’ll explain.’

We spend ten minutes explaining, but the security guard says we need to get a ticket like everybody else. Leaving the car there, we follow his directions around the edge of the site until we come to a gate and Scott buys a couple of day passes.

In the late afternoon sunshine, there’s a lot of red flesh on display. The girls are all in bikini tops and the boys are all shirtless. Distant music pounds.

‘Where shall we start?’ he asks.

I leave him studying a map while I join the queue for the Portaloos. The stench hits me as I open the door. Outside, I wash my hands in the long water trough and scan the posters pinned above it for any bands I might recognise. Liv has mentioned The Liars. They’re on the main stage in an hour. I take a picture of the poster and go back to Scott.

‘We’re not here to party!’ I scold, as he hands me a plastic pint of beer.

‘It’s only shandy. We need to stay hydrated.’

I take a sip as we trace a route on the map and head off into the next field. As we emerge through an archway of brightly coloured bunting and ribbons, I gasp. Between us and the stage at the far end of the field are thousands upon thousands of people. My heart sinks. I scan the heads, straining to find Liv, but it’s impossible. I feel like dropping to the ground, kicking and screaming. I want my daughter.

Scott takes my hand. He doesn’t say ‘I told you so’, he simply pulls me into a hug. Over his shoulder, a girl not much older than Liv is slumped in a heap under a hedge. I sob.

‘Don’t worry, she’s fine,’ he whispers. ‘She’s with friends and they’ll look after each other.’

I pull myself together, wiping my eyes. A friend goes to the girl in the hedge and helps her sit up. For a moment, I think everything will be okay; then the ‘friend’ hands her a pint of beer.

Scott follows my gaze.