Chapter 1

"Mum, I am sixteen you know," the teenage girl wailed. She pushed back her dirty blonde hair that was tumbling down her face and gave her mother a frown.

"I know you are sixteen but you have an exam tomorrow. It's your GCSEs babe, they are very important."

Sarah sighed and grunted to herself. "It's English Lit. I have no problem with that. And I haven't seen Kev for two weeks," she whined.

Angela Bailey grimaced. "I got you tickets for this afternoon, there is no reason why you can't do some revision this morning and meet him at two thirty outside the stadium."

Sarah puffed and crossed her arms. "I want to see him. I have done all my revision and I have already arranged to meet him."

"And to be honest young lady, after what Mrs Crosse said yesterday I don't want you going at all. Be grateful that I'll let you go for the afternoon."

Sarah uncrossed her arms and then waved them around theatrically. "What the hell was all that about? You saw me leave dressed in jeans and a blouse. And you saw me come home wearing that. I wasn't wearing some miniskirt, looking like a hooker."

"Well that's what she said she saw. She was waiting to get the bus to bingo and said that's what you were wearing when she went past. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"No," Sarah replied sharply. "It was probably Paul's girlfriend, you've seen how she dresses. You know how confused the old woman gets."

Her mother eyed the young girl suspiciously. "Are you having sex?"

Sarah gave a panicked expression and looked around the hallway of their upmarket suburban house. "No, Mum. This is not something I want to talk about. Now I am going to miss my train."

Angela put her hand on her daughter's shoulder as she went towards the door. "Not so fast, young lady."

"Oh what is it now?" Sarah asked exasperated and Angela shot her daughter a dangerous look.

"What are you going to be doing in London?"

"I dunno yet. Meeting Kev. My boyfriend. The love of my life," Sarah responded dramatically and Angela rolled her eyes.

"You are sixteen. You do not know what love is," she muttered in response and the Sarah's blue eyes sparkled angrily. She pulled herself up to her 5ft 8in in height and puffed her chest out.

"I do know what love is," she barked furiously and Angela groaned. Sarah had had this chat with her best friend, Donna, who had told her that Kevin clearly did not love her as he did not treat her with respect which had caused a bit of an argument, but Sarah knew that being in her boyfriend's company made her feel warm and content. She had not managed to feel like that with anyone else, doing anything else.

"I will give you a lift to the station," Angela told her and got her keys. "But I want you home for six. And not a minute later, you understand?"

Sarah groaned. "Oh Mum, purr-lease."

Sarah sat down in the deserted carriage and waited for the doors to close. The Sunday service trains from Aylesbury to London (via her town of Wendover) were rarely busy and she was lucky in that there was only a smattering of other passengers.

She had resented her mother following her onto the station, but the twenty pounds in cash she had given her as "spending money" was gratefully received and Sarah put her bag down on the seat next to her.

She needed to get changed. She could not meet her boyfriend in just jeans and T-Shirt – he would certainly dump her if she wasn't sexy and alluring. Sarah scanned the carriage and saw that there was just one guy at the end of the train listening to his music.

The train jerked into life and Sarah was jerked forwards. She waited for it to pick up speed and she ferreted around in her rucksack. She liked this bag, as the lining was coming away at the bottom and with a bit of cleverness, it was possible to hide items underneath the bag, so it was not immediately apparent that there was anything there.

Sarah kicked her heels off. Her mother did not object to her choice of footwear, but then they were not big heels and were mostly hidden by her jeans anyway.

She slid her hand in and took out a plaid black and white tartan skirt. It was short, but it was supposed to be. Sarah took one more look on the train and slid her jeans down her firm, teenage thighs. The harsh fabric on the chair rubbed against the back of her legs and she struggled with the denim trousers. It congregated by her ankles and she struggled to kick off the stubborn garment.