Izzie had hardly slept all night, such were the depths of her turmoil and guilt. She had wrecked everything. To think that a few short weeks ago she’d written brave, carefree words in her diary about how this would be her rite-of-passage summer, how she was on the brink of becoming a woman . . . ha! Cue mocking laughter from the rest of the world, she thought, pulling the pillow over her head. Now George had left, apparently having dumped Mum, and it was all because of her: a stupid girl.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she had totally blown everything with Fraser too. Having been grounded the night before, she’d texted him saying that she couldn’t go out that evening after all and could they hang out today instead?

He hadn’t replied. Not a single word. He must have thought she had gone cold on him and couldn’t be bothered to answer her. He was probably already chatting up some other girl in a swimming pool by now.

A sob burst out of her at how rubbish everything had become. Then another sob, because it was all her fault. She imagined pressing the pillow harder and harder against her nose and mouth so that she could no longer breathe. Was it possible to kill yourself that way, she wondered, or did the body’s survival instinct kick in and somehow push the pillow away in its fight for air? She didn’t have the energy to try it, though. That was how pathetic she was. She couldn’t even be bothered to suffocate herself.

It was ten o’clock in the morning and they were having a lazy day at the cottage. Earlier on, Mum had made an effort and rustled up bacon sandwiches for breakfast, but she’d looked tired and red-eyed. For a horrible moment, Izzie had thought her mum might go into misery meltdown all over again when she realized she’d accidentally made two coffees, one for George, somehow forgetting that he had already left. She had stared at that mug as if it were possessed by the devil, and her lower lip had actually begun to tremble as the fact of his departure clicked back into place. He’s gone. You idiot. You could see it on her face.

‘I’ll have it,’ Izzie had said quickly, snatching the mug away, even though she’d never liked coffee. Anything to stop that wobbling lip. Anything to prevent her mum’s face from sagging with renewed despair.

‘What are we doing today?’ Jack had asked just then, ambling into the room with his headphones on and completely misreading the mood. ‘Hey, when are we gonna go zorbing by the way? You did say we could.’