29 Eighteen years earlier.
Amy was starting to get sick of sitting in this musty flat, which stank of fags and booze — and worse. It was one of the reasons why she only saw Lewis once every few days at best — he barely left the flat unless it was to get more booze, and even then he’d quite happily send Greg off to get it for him.
‘We should go out somewhere,’ Amy said, the same as she’d said a thousand times before.
‘Like where?’ Lewis said. ‘There’s nowhere to go round here. It’s shit.’
‘I dunno. Go and see a film or something. Walk round the park, I dunno.’
‘Yeah, walking, great.’
‘Sit in the park then.’
‘We’re sitting here. Here’s got a TV, too.’
‘There’s a party in town later. Some friend of Alex’s, if you want to come,’ Greg said. Lewis shot him a look that Amy probably wasn’t
