Camellia shivered and hugged her arms around her body.

'It's far too early to go to Hammersmith yet,' Dougie said taking his jacket and draping it round her shoulders. 'Come home with me!'

Reason told her it wasn't wise to go home with a man she'd only known a few hours. But Dougie was right: it was too early to go to Hammersmith.

'Don't look so worried.' He lifted her face to his, kissing her lightly on the lips. 'It's only around the corner, you can leave just after seven and you'll be there in plenty of time.'

He held her hand and led her down a small alley, across another narrow street and into a tiny dark courtyard. He stopped by a printer's shop. 'Before we go in, I want you to promise you won't ever tell anyone where I live.'

A ray of early morning light cut down through a gap in the high buildings and drifted across his high cheek bones. Suddenly he looked sinister, and she drew back instinctively, afraid.

'You're safe with me.' His voice was low and compelling. 'I don't bring people here because I'm not a trusting person. But you're different, Camellia, and I feel something special for you.'

A couple of years ago no one in the world had cared about her. If being daring was the way to find love and adventure she wasn't going to duck the chance.

'I won't tell anyone,' she insisted. She would tell Suzanne she'd gone straight from the club to the tube.

But her fear returned as Dougie led her into the dark shop that smelled of machinery and printers' ink and through another door into total darkness.

'There's no light till we get to the top,' he said, locking the door behind him. 'Hold on to my hand, I'll lead the way.'

A stink of mildew made her recoil. She could feel bare wooden boards under her feet, and a sensation that mice or rats could be lurking made her shudder, but it was too late now to back off. Up and up they went, till at last Dougie switched on a light to reveal a square landing with smoke blackened walls.

'There was a fire here once,' he said calmly. 'The printer's old and I do a lot of deals for him, so he lets me live here. I'm going to get it all done up soon.'

There was one big dark room, with a primitive kitchen and bathroom leading off, filled with shabby furniture that reminded her of Fishmarket Street, with a big wooden bedstead the centrepiece.

Fear turned to horror when he picked up a big steel bar and placed it in brackets across the door. 'Don't be scared,' he smiled, looking round at her over his shoulder. 'This is to keep people out, not you in.'

He lit the gas fire to take the chill off the room and put Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band on a Dansette record player. Camellia stood awkwardly, shivering, clutching his jacket more tightly round her. She wished she'd insisted on getting a cup of coffee somewhere.

'Come here,' he said, holding out one hand.

She came to him hesitantly, but he drew her into his arms and held her, his face against her hair.

'Isn't that something?' he whispered, pointing to the view.

Camellia looked out over the rooftops, but it was the sky itself Dougie was drawing her attention to: every shade from palest grey, up through blues interspersed with strands of pink and finally red, surrounding the giant melon sun.

He kissed her then, his warm lips coming down on Camellia's so softly she melted against him, losing her fear. His fingers entwined in her hair, drawing her closer and closer until they were as one.

'I knew you were special as soon as I saw you,' he whispered, kissing her neck, her ears and eyes. 'It's like that sky out there, Camellia, all new and shiny. I just want to hold on to you and make it last forever.'

Camellia was quite used to boys trying to seduce her. But this was different. He'd removed her belt and unzipped her tunic almost without her realising it and when he kissed her and slid his hands over the bare skin of her back, she trembled. Carol and Suzanne were always talking about sex at work, yet she knew they'd both think she was a slut to allow a man she'd only just met take such liberties with her.

Yet she was afraid to stop him, so terribly scared he wouldn't like her anymore. His arms held a warmth and tenderness she had not felt since she was a child. His kisses wiped out all the feelings she'd ever had of not belonging. Besides, she had pretended to be so sophisticated all evening. How could she revert to being a babyish little virgin now?

As he laid her back on the bed somehow he managed to remove her tunic all in the same move. 'Don't be scared,' he whispered. 'I only want to love you. Let me take your bra off and see your breasts,'

It was the wonder on his face when he touched her naked breasts for the first time which moved her. She had thought for so many years that she was ugly and unlovable, hiding her body from anyone's gaze. He sat back on his haunches beside her, took one breast in each hand and stroked them as reverently as if they were a work of art.

'You are so beautiful, Camellia,' he murmured, bending to kiss her nipples. 'The most beautiful girl I ever saw.'

Time had no meaning as she lay in his arms being kissed and cuddled. Each time he kissed her breasts she felt as if something was wringing her insides, tweaking an invisible cord which made her move closer and closer to him. Several times his hands moved down to remove her shorts, but somehow she managed to stop him.

'No further,' she insisted, although she might have weakened had it been dark. Her whole being wanted to be touched and explored, to find the seat of that burning inside her. If she could somehow have removed her boots, shorts, tights and knickers without him seeing, and got in under the sheets but sunshine was pouring through the window and she wasn't confident enough about her naked body yet, not to expose it to his eyes.

Eventually she stood up. 'I have to go,' she said. She didn't want to leave him but it was gone seven. Although Dougie's eyes kept drooping, Camellia was wide awake. It must have been the pills she'd taken: she felt faintly sick too and wanted a cup of tea.

'Meet me tomorrow. Covent Garden tube at eight,' he said sleepily. 'I think I'm falling in love with you.'

Dougie had fallen asleep in the time it took her to put on her tunic and belt and go to the toilet. Camellia noticed now the grime on the walls, the balls of fluff on the floor, the grey, stained sheets. But as she bent over to kiss him goodbye, her heart contracted painfully. His face in sleep had lost its hardness, his lips were slack and so very soft. She lifted a black curl, letting it coil around her finger like a spring. He said he was falling in love with her. She could change the way he lived.

Dougie was waiting as she came out of the tube station on Monday evening, he was leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette, but as he saw her he dropped it and almost leapt to her side.

'I didn't think you'd come,' he said, pulling her to him for a kiss regardless of people passing by either side of them. 'I thought you'd think better of it now you've seen where I live.'

Camellia just smiled and shook her head. She had thought of nothing else but him since she let herself out of that horrible dark printing shop, counting the hours till she could see him. She'd been excited about dates before, but never like this.

She had taken a big risk too, in stealing the dress she was wearing, before it was even priced. It was a Mary Quant mini, white with a black diagonal stripe from one shoulder to the hip, and only three had been delivered. She just hoped she didn't bump into any of the staff from Peter Robinson's.

'You look gorgeous,' Dougie said, taking her hand. 'Now where would you like to go?'

Camellia couldn't suggest anywhere, she knew so little about the West End's pubs, so Dougie took her to Old King Cole's down in the Strand which appeared to have been taken over by flower children and played loud rock music. As in the Middle Earth, Dougie seemed to know everyone.

The time went far too quickly. It seemed as if they'd only been there less than an hour when Camellia noticed it was half past ten.

'I must go,' she gasped. She would be hard pushed to make it back to Archway House by eleven.

They had talked about all kinds of things, yet she still didn't know much about Dougie. Why did he live in such an awful place when he seemed to have so much money? And why was he so evasive about his background, when she'd told him so much about hers?

'Stay with me tonight?' Dougie took her hand and lifted it to his lips. 'Please?'

'I can't. I'll get into trouble,' she said sadly.

'What's the worst that warden can do?' Dougie asked with a shrug of his shoulders. 'Throw you out?'

Camellia nodded.

'Well does that matter? You could always come and stay with me, we could do my place up together,' he said with a persuasive grin. 'You can't live being in at eleven. That's ridiculous, especially now you're my girl. I'm just waking up at that time of day.'

'I can't stay with you,' Camellia blushed. 'I might end up having a baby.'

'If that's all you're worried about I'll soon get that sorted,' Dougie grinned.

An hour or two later Camellia was in Dougie's bed, any earlier anxiety about Miss Peet or the rights and wrongs of staying the night with Dougie were gone in the joy of being held and loved.

It was too dark to see the ugliness of his flat. A soft, cool breeze was coming through the big open window and he had lit a couple of candles by the bed.

She felt as if she was lying on satin sheets, a fairytale prince making love to her. Maybe it was that pot she'd smoked with him that made her feel so secure and so happy, or just the way he kept singing snatches of the Beatles record 'Something' to her.

His chest looked golden in the candlelight, and it felt so silky. She had been a little alarmed at the size of his penis, rising up almost to his navel, the first adult one she'd ever seen. But he had been stroking and playing with her for so long, she knew the time had come when she must let him put it inside her.

'Let me put this under your bum,' he whispered, lifting her slightly to push a pillow beneath her buttocks. 'It makes it easier.'

A pang of jealousy stabbed at her. Somehow it showed how many other girls he'd been with.

It hurt. She wished she could push him off and say it was all a mistake. All the pleasure she'd felt earlier had faded. He wasn't gentle and loving now, he was saying swear words that made her cringe and they felt like a betrayal of trust, but still she held onto him, winding her legs around his back and arching herself closer.

It seemed to go on and on, making her sorer with each stroke, but by now he was oblivious to her, grunting and groaning, biting at her neck.

Faster and faster he moved, until she thought she would have to scream, but suddenly he made a low roaring sound and it was over.

She lay there, squashed by his body, feeling damp and decidedly disappointed as his tremors gradually died down. Part of her was thinking 'So that's it, is it? Why do people make so much fuss about it?'

He was still for some moments, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal. For a moment she thought he had fallen asleep.

But then he moved onto his side and drew her onto his shoulder.

Only one candle was still alight, flickering under a poster of Jimi Hendrix. She looked at the poster and wondered if Rose had given Miss Peet the message that she was staying with Suzanne.

'That wasn't any good for you, was it?' he asked in a curiously croaky voice.

'It was,' she lied bravely. She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

'Don't tell me fibs,' he said, wriggling away from her and leaning up on his elbow to look down at her.

He looked even more like a pirate or a gypsy now. His lips were very red and slightly swollen, his hair wild and curly.

'Let me make you come now,' he said. 'I want this first night to be beautiful for both of us.'

Camellia couldn't reply. She didn't know what he had in mind and she was a little afraid he would start all over again. But he took her silence as agreement and moved down the bed to kiss her breasts, parting her vagina with his fingers.

'Is it sore?' he whispered. 'I didn't mean to hurt you.'

She forgave him everything then, as he caressed her. Dipping his fingers right into her, then running them back. She held her breath, terrified he would stop, but still he kept on and on, driving her wilder and wilder.

How he got this experience no longer mattered. The ugly room disappeared as she was transported into a world of ecstasy. Suddenly she understood why her mother had kept going with men.

Sensation was the only thing that mattered now: breath hot and heavy, urging him upwards to kiss her, opening her legs wider and pushing his hands harder against her. Something was happening inside her, this great welling up feeling she couldn't control. A million stars twinkling behind closed eyelids, a rocket shooting her upwards to meet them.

'I love you,' she heard herself shout out.

'I think we were meant for one another,' he whispered later in the darkness, as he held her safe in the circle of his arms. The last candle had spluttered out, only a lingering waxy smell remaining. 'Be my chick forever?'

Chapter Six.

'What are you doing that for?' Dougie came up behind Camellia as she was cleaning the windows, pressed himself against her back and cupped her breasts in his hands.

'They're filthy,' she said reprovingly. 'You can hardly see out of them.'

'I rarely got up in daylight before you came here, let alone looked out the windows.' Dougie tweaked at her nipples, burying his face in her hair. 'Let's fuck?'

'Don't you ever think of anything else?' Camellia dropped the cloth into the bucket. Dougie turned her on by merely being close to her, but her mind had been on making his flat more homely, especially now that it was getting colder. It was ten weeks since she'd first met Dougie, and the summer was nearly gone. 'We should paint the room, make it pretty. It's horrible in here during the day.'

She had cleaned it thoroughly, using copious amounts of Vim, bleach and other cleaning fluids, but though the kitchen looked much better, she could see little improvement in the main room. She dreamed of it all painted glossy white, with an orange carpet, Op Art large floor cushions and big bright framed prints on the walls. She had made little changes: a red tablecloth now covered the scarred sideboard, a red and gold Chinese lantern softened the overhead light, and two giant Zodiac sign posters covered the worst stains on the walls. But it wasn't enough.

Dougie opened the zip on her jeans and slid his hand inside, fingers reaching down towards her pubic hair. 'Sod painting the room when I could be fingering you,' he whispered. 'I'd rather look at your fanny than the walls!'

Since Camellia spent her first night with Dougie her life had turned upside-down. Maybe if she'd spoken to Miss Peet herself that night instead of leaving a message to say she was staying with Suzanne, she might still be living at Archway House and working at Peter Robinson's. But Miss Peet had been suspicious when she saw Rose's note and had rung Mrs Connor, Suzanne's mother, only to find Camellia wasn't there.

When Camellia got home the following evening, Miss Peet had called her into her sitting room to cross-examine her.

'Don't make things worse by telling more lies,' she snapped angrily as Camellia tried to pretend Rose had given the wrong message. 'I have a great deal of experience with teenage girls and I know you weren't with any girlfriends but spending the night with a man. What's more you haven't been at work today.'

If Miss Peet had been satisfied with giving a lecture on the dangers of pregnancy, venereal diseases, and the folly of rushing headlong into a relationship with a man she had only just met, Camellia might've stopped to consider that this older woman was only concerned with her well-being. But Miss Peet said that unless this 'boyfriend' was prepared to come to Archway House so she could meet him, Camellia would be grounded for a month.

'If he's a nice lad and cares about you, he won't object,' she said firmly, making it quite clear she would settle for nothing less. 'You are only seventeen and I am responsible for your safety while you live here.'

Camellia couldn't meet Miss Peet's eyes. She stared sullenly at the ceiling and refused to even apologise, much less agree to the woman's request. She could no more imagine Dougie with his long hair, tight trousers and cowboy boots waiting politely in the hall to meet this tyrant, than working on a building site, or going to church.

The next day Dougie was waiting for her as she came out of work. He looked like a rock star in a black sleeveless singlet, tight jeans and a huge studded belt.

'What's going on?' he asked angrily. 'I rang the hostel last night and asked to speak to you and some woman said I'd have to come out there so she could meet me. Who the hell does she think she is?'

Camellia explained what had happened. She was feeling very low: Miss Puckridge had given her a dressing down for not turning up for work the previous day and she had no good excuse to offer.

'Just leave the hostel,' Dougie said dismissively. 'That old bag has no right to tell you who you can see. And I'm bloody well not going cap in hand to her.'

Camellia couldn't think straight. On the one hand she was absolutely certain she was in love with Dougie. On the other hand a little voice was whispering that she should exercise some caution before jumping in feet first. She knew so little about Dougie, and his lifestyle seemed so strange.

'Couldn't you put on something smart and come out there just once?' she asked. 'It would make it so much better for me.'

'I can't see how,' he sneered. 'She'll take one look at me and decide I'm not suitable. She's a frustrated cow, I know that without even meeting her. It's up to you. Either you come and live in my pad and be my chick, or we leave it right here,'

He began to walk away, through the crowds of people rushing to Oxford Circus tube station. Camellia looked at his narrow hips and black curls gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine and she felt faint with the fear of losing him.

'Dougie!' she called out, running after him, elbowing her way through the crowds. 'Don't go like that.'

She caught up with him about twenty yards down Regent Street. 'Please don't be cross with me?' she pleaded, catching hold of his arm. 'I do want to be your girl. I'm just a bit scared.'

'Scared of what? I only want to have fun with you.'