“I’m sure we’ll manage. We can always get one tea and two straws if we’re really desperate.” She squeezed his hand. “If we end up sharing a scone, though, I’m having the jammy half.”

* * *

If Rosie looked hard enough, she could see the odd mark on the wallpaper where she’d Blu-Tacked her favourite posters. The bunk beds were the other way around now, and her old desk had been replaced by a new unit for the television she’d always begged for and never been allowed, but otherwise the room was the same claustrophobic little box room she’d spent most of her formative years in.

Humming along to an earworm Kash had inflicted on her the night before, she was about to reach for her mug of coffee when a shriek stilled her hands.

“You nipped my ear, Rosie! You proper cut me. Is it bleeding? I bet it’s bleeding. I won’t tell Mam if you give me a fiver.”

Rosie held the scissors aloft, examining them carefully for claret and chunks of lughole. “You’re a dirty fibber, Janelle Badu. Hold still so I don’t make a cock of your fringe.”

Janelle—thirteen going on forty-five—folded her arms and scowled, her jaw working furiously as she chewed her bubblegum. “You don’t get to boss me about just cos you’re a copper.”

“No, I get to boss you about because I’m older than you and bigger than you, and because Dad said I could.”

“Stepdad,” Janelle said, wafting at the falling hair so she could continue to glower upward. “He’s only your stepdad, and he likes me the best.”

Re-angling the scissors, Rosie sent more black curls spiralling into Janelle’s lap. “Hmm, I don’t know. I think Samuel has the edge. They both like footy, fishing—”

“Farting,” Janelle added, and laughed so hard Rosie had to stop cutting. The laugh was infectious, a throaty, full-bellied roar that caught her up in its sheer enthusiasm. Janelle could be a pain in the arse at times, but she was good fun when she wasn’t setting the world to rights.

“Boys, eh?” Rosie said, winking at her in the mirror.

Janelle wiped her nose, smearing snot and loose hairs across the sleeve of Rosie’s smock. “Mam reckons they’re only good for one thing.”

“Yeah?” Rosie closed her eyes, wondering what the hell Janelle had overheard. “What’s that?”

Janelle blew a bubble and left Rosie in suspense until it popped. “Getting the lids off stuff. Are we done yet?”

“Just about.”

A liberal application of curl-defining gel rounded things off, and Rosie held up a smaller mirror, displaying the back and sides of Janelle’s new style for her approval.

“Love it.” Janelle tore off the smock and kissed Rosie’s cheek. “Tammy wanted hers doing as well.”