Emma is sixteen, and her perplexed parents don't understand. "and you look like a Dickensian orphan - when are you going to start wearing shoes again?" yells her mother Joan, as Emma walks out of the door. "When it starts raining love" answers Martin, "let her go ... she's literally on the own two feet now".
The post-punk Manchester music schene is buzzing and Emma finds her place and her future in it. But heroin has flooded the North West. Nihilism is all very well - exept when it comes to murder. Can Emma stand back and watch the destruction of loved ones?