‘You’re rich, Ashleigh Delatour. Your mother and father will provide for you for the rest of your life. But most of us can’t bank on that. Mum and Dad work twenty-four seven, but that barely covers the cost of this place and educational fees. They sacrifice a huge amount just to keep me at school, even though I won a scholarship that pays three-quarters of the fees. The least I can do is work as hard as I can to provide for the future. One day I will be as rich and as powerful as your mother. Because, as the sign says, I’ll create my future. No one else will.’

I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. After a few minutes I heard Charlotte’s breathing fall into the rhythm of sleep. I tried to follow suit, but there were so many thoughts going around in my head. I’d assumed so much. I’d assumed Charlotte was naturally smart and possessed of a brilliant memory. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe she was forced to spend countless hours alone in this room just to give that impression. I’d assumed her parents were wealthy – not as wealthy as mine, naturally – but wealthy all the same. How else could they have afforded to send her on that ill-fated camp? I realised I had no proper understanding of how the world operated. Maybe Aiden was right. Maybe the Delatour family was determined to keep the ugly world at a distance so we couldn’t be offended by it.

I eventually fell asleep, but my dreams were fractured and restless.

I was woken by a siren in the middle of the night. It made me jolt upright in bed, my heart hammering. Charlotte barely stirred. Her eyes flickered open and she put a hand on my arm.

‘It’s okay,’ she mumbled. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘What is it?’

‘Just an alarm from the wall. Happens all the time. Dad and his men will sort it. Go back to sleep.’

But I couldn’t. Even when the noise stopped, about half an hour later, I couldn’t. I stared at the dark space above the bed, listened to the silence and waited until morning slowly bathed the room in light.

Charlotte’s theory about puberty explaining Aiden’s mood swings and strange behaviour had stayed with me. I tried to tackle him about it the following day, after dinner (it featured chips – Mum was away on yet another conference).

‘Do you feel all grumpy, Aiden? Maybe a bit depressed? Feeling like you aren’t in control of your own body?’