‘I know,’ I admit with a nod, then adjust the towel that’s wrapped around my head as it tips to the side before smoothing more cocoa butter over my shoulders and down my arms. My phone is still charging on the bedside table and I glance at it. ‘I wish she didn’t worry so loudly, though.’

Rosh chuckles as I head back to the wardrobe. I duck behind the door and take a deep breath as I tug on a pair of leggings and my father’s Guyana Amazon Warriors hoodie I stole that just fits over the towel on my head.

As soon as I close the wardrobe door, Rosh mutters, ‘Are you going to leave that there?’ without looking up. I don’t even need to ask what she’s referring to and bend down to pick up my school uniform, which is in a pile on the floor, then stuff it into the bag by the wardrobe to take to the launderette tomorrow.

‘You’re worse than Mum,’ I tell her as I walk back to my bed and sit on the edge.

‘Why do you keep checking your phone?’ she asks as I lean over to peer at the screen again.

Rosh looks up from her book, watching as I unwind the towel from my head. ‘Who is she?’

‘Who’s who?’

‘Whoever you’re waiting for a message from.’

‘I’m not waiting for a message.’

I’m not.

Poppy doesn’t even have my number.

Rosh cocks her head at me. ‘So why are you so fidgety, then?’

I’m not.

Am I?

‘Who is she?’ Rosh asks again, closing her book this time.

‘No one.’ I shrug, avoiding eye contact as I rub my hair with the damp towel.

When I look up again, she’s arching an eyebrow at me and she’s never looked more like our mother.

We stare at each other across the room for a moment too long and I finally give in.

‘Poppy,’ I admit and the relief of saying her name out loud makes me light-headed.

‘You’ve never mentioned a Poppy before.’

‘I only met her today.’

‘Where?’

‘On the death boat to the wind farm.’

‘I thought it was a school trip?’

‘It was, but we weren’t the only school there.’

‘What school does she go to?’

‘Roedean.’

Rosh’s eyes light up. ‘Their library is supposed to be amazing!’

‘I’ll be sure to ask her about it.’ I chuckle gently, drying the ends of my hair.

‘What’s she like?’

‘Nice.’ I can’t help but smile to myself. ‘Really nice. And she’s smart. You’d like her. She told me about cognitive dissonance.’

‘What’s that?’

I suddenly can’t remember. ‘I’m not sure.’

Rosh laughs. ‘Wow. She must be pretty.’

‘Yeah.’ I can feel how warm my face is as I laugh back. ‘She is.’

‘So?’