‘Are you here with your parents?’ Georgia asked.

Sam shook his head. ‘My mum, Wendy, and her wife run RNN.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Red News Network,’ Sam explained. ‘It started as a newspaper, but it’s all online now. Mum’s in Belgium covering some anti-capitalist demo. I’m staying with their friend, Don. He’s the one over there with the dodgy moustache.’

Georgia nodded. ‘I shook hands with him, but it’s hard to remember names when you meet everyone at once.’

Sam was taller than Georgia and had a better view as they turned a corner. ‘Is this your pals?’ he asked.

Georgia was surprised to see about thirty estate kids, giving off a clueless vibe. She spotted Maya and pushed through the SAG members walking ahead.

‘Bloody hell, you brought loads!’ Georgia told her friend.

About three quarters were boys, who she suspected were more attracted by chaos than politics.

The lively teens in branded polos and trainers were a contrast to the bohemian SAG members. Georgia had a horrible what-have-I-done feeling as the two groups exchanged wary hellos, then got caught off guard when Kamila snatched her into a huge hug.

‘You’ve brought so many of your friends! This is amazing.’

Sam and the other SAG members were all throwing positive vibes at Georgia too.

‘What now, boss?’ Maya asked.

Georgia realised Maya was talking to her and glanced about feeling helpless. But Gerard had caught up from his diversion into the newsagent and took control.

‘Boys and girls, town hall, that way! Quick-a-march!’

Gerard led the charge on an imaginary horse.

One of the other SAG members punched a fist in the air and shouted, ‘No cuts, no budget!’

The first reply was limp, but by the third shout everyone was joining in.

Georgia felt part of something, arms linked with Kamila and Maya, and Sam behind. Their rowdy group acted like a magnet for lone protestors and smaller groups. They numbered more than a hundred when they reached the town hall, interrupted by Gerard launching a kick at McDonald’s front window and screeching, ‘Capitalist scum,’ at a bewildered five-year-old with a Happy Meal.

Georgia had walked past the town hall hundreds of times and skated on the ice rink they put out front every Christmas, but she’d never seen it like this. The noise grew as they approached. There were several hundred people milling about, waiting for the council members to arrive for the budget meeting. Some had placards with anti-cuts and anti-government slogans. There were heaps of uni students, workers from the leisure centre whose jobs faced the axe, dustmen and street cleaners in high-viz bibs, librarians, social workers and a big group of teachers, including a couple from Georgia’s school.

‘Evening, Mr Hannan,’ Maya shouted cheerfully. ‘This is why I won’t be handing in my homework tomorrow.’

Mr Hannan gave her a thumbs up. ‘Off-duty, Maya. Couldn’t give a toss.’