Richard couldn’t be arsed to go back to school in the afternoon, so he took a bus into town instead. 

   Having stolen himself a can of Coke, and a couple of packets of dry roasted peanuts, from a newsagent’s, he decided to head for Central Gardens.  Richard liked it there – and especially loved the stone statue of a lion.  He had heard, years ago, that the guy who had made it had topped himself afterwards, because he hadn’t got the back legs quite right, or something.  Weird!  To Richard, that lion was magnificent.

   "You have seventeen new messages, in your mailbox," announced the automated voice.

    Steve braced himself:  

    "Steve, it’s Julie.  Pick up the bloody phone!"

   Delete.

   "Steve, please call Julie."

   Delete.

   "Steve, it’s Julie.  Please.  I really, really need to speak to you.  I love you."

   Oh, for Christ’s sake!  Delete.

   "You bastard, Steve!  Don’t bother calling, because I don’t want to know, okay?"

   Screw this!  Steve couldn’t take anymore.  He switched his mobile off, and slammed a coin into the coffee machine.  How the Hell was he going to get through the rest of the day at work?  The smug comments, and jokes at his expense, from Jeff, Keith, and co., although by no means unexpected, didn’t exactly help matters.

   "Another pint, Jules?"

   Julie’s mum was under the impression that her elder daughter was at college, at that moment.  What a joke!  She hadn’t been there for weeks, and was, no doubt, going to get chucked off her course soon.  Not that Julie gave a toss anymore.

   "Well, naturally.  I told you, Zack.  I’m getting bloody well slaughtered - and the sooner, the better!"

   The ginger-haired lad behind the bar looked at her, a little dubiously.  "You ought to take it easy, love," he suggested.

   "Zack, just do your sodding job, and serve me, or I’ll take my custom elsewhere!"

   "Okay, but you just be careful, Julie.  There are a lot of nutters out there, who would love to take advantage of a young girl, like yourself."

   "Yeah?  Pity my boyfriend wasn’t one of them then, isn’t it?"

   "So, Mr. Lion, what do you reckon I should do then, mate?"  Richard gazed up, into the statue’s eyes, as if hoping to find his answer in their stony depths.

   If Julie had wanted to get in touch, she’d have called Rich by now, wouldn’t she?

   "He isn’t a real lion, silly!" squealed a little girl, who Richard hadn’t noticed before.  She was with a woman, in her mid-twenties, with short, black hair – presumably the child’s mother.

   "Richard?  Richard, it is you, isn’t it?"

   Was he supposed to know her or something?  Rich wasn’t exactly in the mood for guessing games.

   "You don’t remember me, do you?  But, then again, I was blonde, then.  And nearly four years younger, of course.  I can hardly believe it was that long ago!"

   The penny dropped, with an almighty thud.  "Erica!  So who is…?"  He didn’t finish his question, but his glance, fixed as it was upon the kid, in her buggy, spoke the words on his behalf.

   "This is my daughter, Heather," answered Erica, simply.

   "I’m going to Gran’s, and she’s got a swing and a slide and loads of games, and a really cute, furry dog, who always keeps on licking me!" announced Heather.

   "We’re going to my mum’s," confirmed Erica.  "Listen, Richard, you don’t fancy tagging along for a while, do you?  I take it that school doesn’t feature on today’s agenda?"

   Richard hesitated.  "Well, I…"

   Erica laughed.  "Don’t worry about it.  It’s not as if I can talk, the amount of time that I spent skiving off, when I was your age."  She paused.  "Maybe we could go for a McDonalds or something?  I’d love to hear how you’re getting on – and your dad and Steve, of course."

   "Can I have fries?" enquired Heather.  Then, as an afterthought, she added the "magic word" – which, of course, was "please". 

   Took Richard back to his own childhood, in the days when life had been remotely "normal".

   "You’ll still be able to go to Gran’s, Heather, love.  I'll drop you off there as usual.  You wouldn’t want to miss seeing your gran, would you?"

   "Gran can come with us!  She likes McDonalds!"

   "No, she doesn’t.  You’re probably thinking of Gran’s sister – your great aunt, Janet."  Erica’s wide-set, hazel eyes returned to Richard.  He had forgotten those eyes.  "It would be good to speak to you again, Rich."

   "I haven’t got any money, but I’ll come if you’re paying."

   Erica smiled.  "That’s settled, then."