As Georgia had recently learned, the low-rise section of the estate was occupied by families and old folks. The homes were packed tight, but the vibe wasn’t much different to the streets where richer kids like Georgia lived. When outsiders talked about Isaac Newton, they were usually thinking about a pair of nineteen-storey towers on the estate’s eastern side. Apple House had been empty for years, though asbestos and government cuts had delayed the demolition. Its twin, Gravity House, where the party was taking place, had been given a cheap makeover and was used as housing of last resort. This meant refugees, the homeless, people released from prison and kids like Andre, who grew up in the care system and got the boot on their eighteenth birthday.

The lift rattled up to the eleventh floor and the four girls emerged, gagging and holding hands over their faces.

‘Old sick and dog crap all mixed up,’ Maya moaned, dashing to a railing and heaving fresh air.

Georgia had never been up one of the towers. The sun was getting low and her inner geek wanted to trace the rows of lights and see if she could spot her street. But the other three were charging down the balcony that ran in front of the flats, towards music booming out of an open front door.

They passed a furious barefoot Hindu man who’d just been protesting the noise. Georgia baulked when they got to the door of the party house. There was an enormous dude on the doorstep, keeping out three gobby lads who’d barely hit their teens and had the waistbands of their trackie bottoms almost down to their knees.

‘If you turds try and get in again, you’re goin’ over that balcony!’ the giant shouted. But his voice changed when he saw Courtney. ‘Girls, welcome!’

‘This big beast is Andre’s big brother Marco,’ Courtney explained. ‘When’d you get out of young offenders?’

Georgia didn’t hear Marco’s answer because she got sucked inside, sandwiched between Maya and Amy, as they passed down a hallway pinned with posters of boxing movies and a soupy haze of marijuana smoke.

‘Oy-oy!’ Rolf shouted, scrambling off a chair, before giving Maya a kiss and a Peroni.

It needled Georgia that Maya had forgiven her boyfriend for the incident at the station, but there was no denying Rolf’s appeal. He had cocky charm and a cynical world view that made Maya laugh, plus a great body and the social status you get dating one of the coolest boys in year twelve.

Amy spotted a bunch of pals and Georgia was living her worst party nightmare. Stripped of her friend group, overdressed and standing on the bare boards of a living room full of people she didn’t know.

‘Rolf said you were coming,’ Georgia heard from close behind. ‘I told him Georgia Pack was too straight to come to a house party on the estate.’