Pupils at The Hall had free time between dinner and bed. But staff nagged if you spent every night staring at your laptop, so Julius had signed up for twice-weekly weight training and Thursday night Cake Club.

The idea was that kids learned baking and raised money for charity selling cakes in the cafeteria at Friday morning break. Kids worked in pairs and Julius’s partner, Chloe, was the type of person who was easy to get along with if you let her be boss. So, while she whipped up a carrot cake, Julius sloped off to talk to his mates.

Matt and three other lads at the back didn’t take baking seriously. Gooey muffins and charred tarts were specialities and they were happiest when something was on fire.

‘My T-shirt came,’ Matt was saying as Julius wandered into earshot.

Matt lifted his flour-dusted apron, revealing a new tee, with the famous photo of Georgia Pack’s leap off the balcony.

‘What a girl,’ a kid called Alexei said, grinning.

‘I watched Georgia on Late Night Live in the summer,’ Matt said, licking his lips. ‘I was drooling.’

‘Just your mouth?’ Julius teased.

‘Aren’t you in the wrong conversation, Julius?’ Matt shot back. ‘I think those girls by the fridge are talking about cowboys.’

Julius smiled and flipped Matt off.

When he’d arrived at The Hall, Julius found out there were a few out gay kids, especially in the upper forms. It gave him the confidence to be honest about himself, and nobody made much fuss about it.

‘Julius may be gay,’ a titchy Israeli kid called Sacha told Matt. ‘But I bet he still bangs a girl before you.’

The joking tailed off as Chloe came over, looking stern.

‘Julius,’ Chloe said curtly. ‘Could you back away from the morons and pipe the passion-fruit frosting?’

The boys made whiplash sounds as Julius followed orders. He sliced the corner off an icing bag and was on his fifth muffin when a door at the back of the room burst open.

Two boys disguised with towels charged in, holding cans of shaving foam. As Matt and his three pals turned to see what was happening, they got blasted with white streaks.

‘Fife House rules!’ the attackers shouted.

The Hall encouraged rivalries between its seven boarding houses, with sports matches, academic quizzes and competitions to raise the most money for charity. There was also a tradition of less wholesome battles in the final days of each term.

‘That is not acceptable!’ the cooking teacher, Mr Oxenbury, roared.

One of the attackers from Fife House exited the way he came. The other lost his footing on a streak of foam, which enabled Sacha to grasp the sleeve of his polo shirt. The Fife kid broke free, but not before Matt and his pals had blocked the back exit.