For a moment Maisie looks like she’s going to sulk like she used to when she was five or six. But perhaps sensing there is a battle still worth winning, she finds a way to let it go.

‘I think he likes me.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘I think Lily’s one of my best friends.’

‘Could be quite a complicated evening.’

‘Not really.’

‘Can we talk about drugs?’

‘I’m not selling you drugs. You have to stop asking me, Mum.’

‘Are you going to do drugs?’

‘Do you mean, when I’m trying to get another scholarship am I going to wreck my cerebellum for the sake of what the kids are calling “a high”?’

It’s not what Becky means. She wants to ask: Will anyone drug you? Will you lose your sense of who you are? What if you’re attacked? Will you be unsafe? Who will prey on you? But instead she says:

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll have some wine and maybe a smoke but that’s it. I’m not really up for getting expelled.’

Maisie’s school is beautiful to look at, expensive to attend, and prides itself on a newly strict drugs policy brought in after a sixth-former got caught dealing coke to fifth years. It is a red-brick and sandstone confection of buildings with soaring arches and narrow windows and turrets curled skyward, like an Oxford college. There are playing fields for rugby and hockey, where a fete is held every summer. Every day there are three hot options for lunch, three cold, plus an extensive salad bar including vegan, dairy-free and gluten-free choices. Maisie is there on a full scholarship and, even so, the annual bill for uniform and extracurricular classes and school trips leaves Becky swearing in disbelief and saying things she never thought would come out of her mouth, like ‘There has to be a cheaper way to play lacrosse.’

Becky always feels the gulf between her and other parents, but Maisie seems not to notice it.

The last time Becky went to a parents’ evening at the school, someone mistook her for a sixth-former and asked her for directions.

Ding, Siobhan: Brace, brace

‘Mum, can I? I’ll have my own room. Jules is going to sleep in a different room.’

‘I don’t care whether he sleeps in Glasgow.’

‘His parents will be there. You can call his mum if you want to discuss my revision schedule with her.’ The veer into acid sarcasm. The assumption of disappointment. ‘Mum, come on, I’ll be the odd one out if I have to say my mummy won’t let me go.’

Siobhan, ding. Where are you? Seriously, BRACE.

‘Oh for fuck sake, Siobhan, I’m coming,’ Becky shouts at her phone.

Maisie is startled.

‘I have to shower,’ says Becky to Maisie. ‘I’ll talk to Adam about the sleepover.’