There was silence for a good ten seconds. Mum’s eyes went from me to Aiden and back again as if weighing our words and our expressions.

‘Is this true, Ashleigh?’ she asked finally.

‘I …’ I couldn’t think straight. I was being offered a way out. Well, not a way out, but a lifeline from complete responsibility. But could I let Aiden take the blame for something that was entirely my idea? Would I have done that if the situation had been reversed? Of course I wouldn’t. You’d have to be dumb to plead guilty when you were innocent. And you’d have to be a total bitch to let someone else take the blame, especially your own brother.

‘Er, well. Yes. That’s true,’ I said. ‘Mainly.’ I kept my eyes fixed to the floor.

No one said anything for the longest time.

‘You will go straight to bed after dinner, both of you,’ said Mum. ‘And there will be no tablet use for a week. You can take books from the library, but that’s it. Your father and I will decide whether or not you’ll be allowed on the school camp next month. At the moment, I’m inclined to cancel it because it’s obvious you can’t be trusted. And for all I know the school will cancel your booking for the same reason. We’ll talk about it when I get home.’

And she ended the call without even a goodbye.

Dinner was a cheerless affair. No conversation and definitely no chips. When we were done, Dad took us to the library and watched as we selected books to take to our room. The library is just off the swimming pool room. I could see the pool through a window, but I knew there was no point asking if we could swim. Mum had only forbidden tablets, but I knew Dad would add swimming to the list of banned activities, if only because he’d said nothing when Mum was selecting our punishment and he must have felt that he should have had a go too. It’s the way I would’ve felt.

Our library is huge and Mum and Dad are very proud of it. I tried to count all the books once but gave up when I got over twelve thousand because I lost count and couldn’t be bothered to start again. Everyone else seems to have books stored electronically and we have that too, of course. But our parents have always said that there is nothing to compete with the feeling of a real book in your hands and the sensation of turning pages. High humidity apparently wrecks bindings, so Mum and Dad have the library temperature controlled. There’s even an old-fashioned small generator that would keep the place cool when the regular electricity goes out and our batteries fail. Not that that’s ever happened in this house. But they’re taking no chances. Seems we might have to sweat, but the books must always be cool and comfortable.