Jenna racked her brains, trying to recall who Kathy Watson might have been.
‘Was Kathy Watson the one—?’
‘Ooh, you’d know her if you saw her, love. Used to be down the club every night in that silver dress, hardly anything to it. Slow-dancing with all the married men.’
God, yes, I remember.
‘Nobody knows who the lad’s father is. Could be one of any number of fellas. Hardly surprising he turned out the way he did.’
‘What’s his name, then?’
‘Jason Watson. Bad lot. He was in all the papers. Caught red-handed but got away from the coppers. A few weeks back, it were. A wanted man.’
‘Is there a reward?’
Jean shrugged.
‘Nobody’s got the money round here, love. I expect he’s long gone by now, anyway.’
‘But the girl, Mia, is still on the estate?’
‘I don’t know. I try to keep out of it all.’ Jean sighed. ‘Almost makes me glad I was never able to have kids of me own, seeing what they’ve all come to. Why can’t they look to people like you and Deano instead of all these bloody drug dealers? I don’t know.’
‘They’ve no hope,’ Jenna suggested. ‘Nothing to aim for but pipe dreams and cartoon bling.’
‘Eh? Cartoon bling? What’s that, then, love?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘This place has lost its heart,’ said Jean. ‘It were so different, once. Do you remember?’
The rest of the visit was taken up with nostalgia about the thriving social scene of thirty years ago and more, the days before Leonardo – before Jason – was even born.
Jenna didn’t dare refer back to the subject for fear of being seen to take too deep an interest, but she kept the names deep in her heart, ready to be brought out later. Jason Watson. Mia Tarbuck. Ready for the Google treatment, as soon as she could get on to her phone.
By the time she left Auntie Jean’s, there was a large-ish mob swelling on the pavement and sitting on the wall.
‘Jenna Diamond,’ shouted one child, leading to a general repetition of her name that rang around the street. They massed around her, an unkempt swarm, smelling of bubble gum and dirt.
‘Why ain’t you in America no more?’ asked one little girl. ‘’Ave you left Talent Team?’
‘Why?’
‘Where’s Deano Diamond?’
‘Are you living back here now?’
She blocked all the questions with an upraised palm and a shake of her head.
‘Let me past, please,’ she said. ‘Let me pass and I promise I’ll come and do a talk at your school.’
‘Cool!’
‘Lame!’
Opinion seemed to be divided here, the girls being keener on this suggestion than the boys in general. Jenna made a slow but steady progress through the jostle, but when she got to her car, the wing mirrors were bent and there was a crack on the windscreen as if a piece of gravel had flown up from the road and hit it.
‘Who did this?’ she demanded, but laughter and shrugs were her only reply. A couple of older boys smirked over the handlebars of their bikes. She thought, vividly and suddenly, of Leonardo. He would have been one of them, once.