She’d been here a week now and, other than with Harlie, she was popular. In fairness, she put enough effort into making everyone love her. She was funny, kind and, even though one of her arms was still in a sling, she did her chores without much complaint.

A week of lectures, NA meetings and immersion with twenty other people who were at various stages in their recovery process meant that the erosion of her denial was already well under way. But writing and reading out her life story should move her on further.

Off she went. The youngest of three, her early years had been fine. Ella was a much-longed-for girl, so after having had two boys, her mother had doted on her. She’d liked school but not sports; there had been enough money but not loads; her dad was firm but fair; her brothers teased her but not too badly.

As with everyone, I’d asked Ella to relate happy and unhappy memories from her childhood. There were lots of happy stories—when she’d been snuggled up in bed, recovering from the chicken pox, being fed flat Seven-Up by her mum; a Christmas Eve when it snowed; the whole family going to London for her tenth birthday.

Yes, yes, lovely. I was impatient to hear the less happy stuff. Always far more telling. Finally we got there—the unhappiest time had been in her last year in primary school. ‘Over the summer, my periods had started and—’ She flicked a look at the men in the room and hesitated. ‘And my chest had got…’ She stopped and began again. ‘I’d started wearing a bra. My three friends wouldn’t hang out with me any more. They said I was showing off—’

‘That’s hard,’ I interrupted. ‘How did you cope?’

‘I, ah…’ Tears started to spill down her face. Shocked, she wiped them away. ‘God, I wasn’t expecting this…I just got through it. But I had to do everything on my own, get the bus by myself, eat my lunch…I never had a…an ally, I guess is the word. I never got used to it. It was a long year.’

‘You didn’t make new friends?’

She shook her head. ‘My ex-friends were bitching about me, saying they could smell period from me. Everyone kept away.’

‘Jez…’ Dennis looked faint.

‘What about afterwards?’ I asked.

‘When we started secondary school, everything was different anyway. Maybe everyone had caught up? A friend of my mum’s had a daughter in my class and we started hanging out. After a while things just got more normal.’

‘Did your ex-friends ever apologize?’

‘No.’

I’d picked up her hesitation. ‘But?’