Maya put on a sinister accent and tapped her finger on the table. ‘I know where you live, Miss Pack.’ Then back in her normal voice, with a wry smile, ‘Your birthday party, years two, three and four …’

‘Oh God!’ Georgia said, facepalming. ‘Totally forgot you came to my house in those days! My head’s not straight right now. And I always liked you, but you always had your little clique of …’ Georgia almost said estate girls, but that was awful and she settled on pals.

‘Gotta admit, I hated you,’ Maya said, smirking. ‘I’d work my arse off and get seventy-five. You’d get ninety-seven and not break a sweat.’

‘Really?’ Georgia gawped.

‘I was nine and jealous as heck-a-doo. One time, me and Amber stole your furry pencil case and dropped it behind a radiator. But I’m over it. You’re smart. Be proud of that.’

‘My furry pencil case,’ Georgia said, banging on the table and realising she was laughing properly for the first time since Sophie had died. ‘I’d forgotten that. My mum went on for hours, and for about two years after, every time I wanted something expensive, Mum was like, Not until you’ve learned to look after your things. Look what happened to your good pencil case.’

‘It’s probably still there,’ Maya laughed. ‘We could break in and grab it.’

Georgia laughed, glad to have lighter thoughts in her head.

Maya checked the time on her phone. ‘We need to scram if we’re riding this bus. If you can’t face the ’rents, you can come to mine. Go to my room and play tunes or something …’

‘Should probably go home,’ Georgia sighed, her chair grating as she stood up. ‘Dad’s a good guy and he’s got enough on his plate.’

The bus stop was a hundred metres away, in a one-way street that ran between the station and the slab-sided leisure centre that contained Cineworld, Ultra Bowl and the council swimming pool. They hadn’t got out of the station concourse when Rolf jogged in front of them.

The athletic seventeen-year-old was holding two packets of chips, one open, one wrapped. And based on his wobbly gait, Georgia reckoned he’d spiced his Cineworld soft drink with booze.

‘Got you chips,’ Rolf said, stepping closer to Maya. ‘I’m really sorry about the money. I’ll pay you back, I swear.’

Rolf had caught Georgia’s eye on several Wednesday mornings when she sat in the Chemistry lab eyeing year-eleven PE on the all-weather pitch. He looked even better in tight jeans and his Saturday-night shirt, with sleeves rolled over chunky biceps.

Maya was less impressed, stepping aside and hissing. ‘I don’t want your chips, or your vodka breath.’

‘It’s our special night,’ Rolf said, then aimed a hand at Georgia. ‘And where did super-geek come from?’