OK … wasn’t quite sure how that worked as a thing, but never mind. I took stock of what we had going for us. The light was still on, sickly as it was. We had one-third of a bottle of water left. We were still alive. And the things we had going against us? We were locked in this basement with no obvious means of escape. We had no more food and were running out of water. The temperature in the basement was dropping from fridge to freezer. As if to reinforce my thoughts, Libby shivered beside me. I immediately put my arm round her only to pull it away again.

‘Sorry. I should’ve asked first. You OK with me putting my arm round you to warm us both up?’

Libby took my arm and placed it back round her shoulders. I guess she was. Not that sitting closer and hugging was going to do much, but it had to be better than nothing. I’d only just begun to clock the strange look Libby was giving me. Her smile faded before she did something totally inexplicable. She leaned forward and kissed me. On the lips. Mouth to mouth. What the actual hell? Shock froze me in the moment. Then I drew back rapidly like she’d slapped me instead. Actually, a slap I would’ve expected and been prepared for. This? Not so much.

‘What was that about?’ I frowned.

‘Just because.’

‘Because of what?’

‘Because we used to be good friends. Because you kept my secret all those years. Because you didn’t desert me back at the harbour wall when you could’ve and should’ve. Because my mum is … was a liar who didn’t give a damn about me. Because, like I said before, you’ve been a better friend than I deserved. Plus I don’t want to die without ever having been kissed.’

‘And a kiss from me, a Cross and someone you consider lower than pond scum, is better than no kiss at all?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Yeah, right. Two days ago, Libby would’ve happily cut my heart out with a rusty chainsaw. What a difference a day made.

‘Liberty, we’re not about to kick the bucket, so stop this.’ I frowned. ‘You’re freaking me out.’

Given a choice between having Libby be civil because she reckoned our minutes were numbered, or having Libby be her normal salty, obnoxious self for the rest of a long life, I knew which one I preferred. But, when you got right down to it, there should’ve been a sign put up outside the now boarded-up door at the top of the basement stairs:

HERE LIE LIBERTY JACKMAN AND TROY EALING.

FINALLY ABLE TO DO IN DEATH WHAT THEY COULDN’T DO IN LIFE:

BE IN THE SAME ROOM FOR LONGER THAN FIVE MINUTES WITHOUT KILLING EACH OTHER. UNABLE TO LIVE TOGETHER, THEY DIED TOGETHER INSTEAD.