Eileen put her hands on her hips. ‘It’s not right, Alice Philips, you and your friends messing around and laughing when your sister’s been kidnapped.’

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘For God’s sake. Do you expect me to sit in silence all day? Am I not allowed to try and take my mind off it for a bloody second?’

‘Don’t you use that tone with me, madam.’

Eileen was working herself up into a righteous frenzy, but Alice banged the door shut in her face. She pulled the iPod from the dock and grabbed her denim jacket, purse and mobile. ‘Come on, let’s go. I’m not sticking around to be harassed by that old bag.’

‘We’ll go and see Jerome down the estate,’ said Larry. ‘Got a bit of business to do – you two can come with me.’

‘Jerome? Do we have to?’ Georgia said.

‘Yeah,’ Alice agreed. ‘And I’m sure he shags that dog. He’s totally in love with it.’

Georgia giggled and Larry pulled a face. ‘You’re sick.’

‘Thanks,’ said Alice.

He swiped at her. ‘Not that kind of sick. But he wants to see me. Can’t not go, can I?’

Georgia and Alice exchanged a look. Alice said, ‘I suppose not. You go, then, Laz, and we’ll catch you this evening. I’ve totally got enough stress in my life without having to deal with that freak on top of everything else. Let’s go to your place, Georgia, yeah?’

Alice opened the door and barged past her grandmother.

‘Awright, Nan?’ asked Larry, in a neutral tone that could either have been just barely polite, or downright mocking. Alice saw him look Eileen up and down, taking in her man-made fibres and bad perm. Eileen was definitely far more of a Nan than a Granny.

‘How dare you talk to me like that, young man?’ Eileen’s already red face was puce with rage.

‘Hiya Mrs Philips,’ muttered Georgia, trying to be conciliatory, but it was too late.

‘You’re grounded!’ Eileen shrieked, pulling at Alice’s sleeve.

Alice turned and faced her. ‘You’ve got to be fucking joking! Call yourself my granny? You’re a stranger to me! We don’t want you here. None of us do ‒ not me or Helen or Dad, so why don’t you just sod off back to your Essex caravan site or estate or wherever that horrible place you live is, and leave us alone?’

The three of them ran down the stairs, out the back door, and through the garden gate into the back alley, to avoid the two bored photographers still hanging around at the front.

‘Laters, Lazzer,’ Alice said, hugging Larry round the waist. He kissed her deeply, as Georgia averted her eyes and lit a cigarette. ‘Don’t get eaten by Rihanna, will you?’