Phones came alive once they were out of the packed protest area. Georgia ignored the scrum of incoming messages, but called Maya, who’d left when Rolf got bored and made it onto a train before the crush.

Georgia was nervous as she dialled her dad. He answered right away, sounding subdued. He said he hadn’t been able to face the guys at work. He’d been home all day and was mostly interested in locating the can opener so he could make beans on toast.

‘Try the dishwasher basket,’ Georgia suggested, before hanging up.

A bunch of SAG members from other branches had already arrived at the restaurant. Georgia felt cringingly out of place in school uniform. The restaurant wasn’t like any she’d been to before. The floor was covered in loosely woven rugs, with big flat cushions to sit on and exotically carved tables, barely twenty centimetres high.

Georgia was spared navigating an Ethiopian menu. The early arrivals had agreed a fixed price for the whole SAG group and the staff set out stacks of finger bowls and jugs of house wine, before bringing platters of food.

‘A little drop?’ Zac asked.

Nobody commented on Georgia drinking wine and she pulled pumps off aching feet and chilled out. Grateful for soggy cushions and her first food since breakfast.

‘No clue what I’m eating, but it’s not bad,’ Georgia said.

Georgia topped up her wine as someone asked a waiter to switch on a TV behind the bar. A big cheer went up from the SAGgers as the six o’clock news started with helicopter shots of the vast crowds in Central London.

‘The headlines at six … London grinds to a halt with an estimated eight hundred thousand protestors out on the streets.’

Georgia felt her cheeks burn as she saw herself on the screen for a soundbite. Her caption, Georgia Pack – SAG Activist & School Protest Organiser.

‘We elected this government to end austerity. They’ve betrayed every promise and it’s time they listened.’

Georgia cringed, hearing her voice come out of the TV, but another huge cheer erupted in the restaurant and people reached over and patted her on the back.

‘I’m not a bloody organiser and I’ve never even been to a SAG meeting,’ Georgia protested to Zac.

‘Georgia, my sons weren’t interested in this,’ a woman with cropped greying hair explained as she leaned back from the cushion behind. ‘But when they saw the photograph of your leap, they saw it wasn’t just another one of Mum’s lefty causes. You made them want to get involved. They made banners, they were texting schoolmates. Thousands of young people came out today because of you.’

‘That’s good …’ Georgia said weakly, then gave Zac a get-me-out-of-here look.

‘You’re amongst friends,’ Zac soothed. ‘Eat, relax, but go easy on the wine.’