‘No.’ Her voice was more brave than certain. ‘I’m old enough. And so are you. Sixteen-year-olds can live independently. It’s not like you’re a baby. Plus, there’s going to be an actual baby. If I can have one of those, surely I can keep an eye on you while I’m at it.’

I felt my heart calming. It made sense.

‘Though I don’t trust Dad,’ she added.

I handed her the peppermint tea. I didn’t trust him either.

I brushed my hair and put it into a French plait to make myself appear as wholesome as I could, then sprayed it in place. I made sure my uniform was clean and correct. I didn’t even put on a little bit of mascara like I usually did. When I thought I looked like the girl with the most straightforward home life possible, I went to school early and made myself do a ‘no big deal’ smile as I stopped at the reception desk to try and work out how to delete whatever the hell message my dad might have sent them in the night.

The entrance hall was quiet. There was still the faint smell of overnight cleaning. I knew it would soon be overlaid with Lynx and crisps and sweat. I focused. I had to play this right. I’d hoped to find the computer unattended and hackable, but no such luck.

‘It’s really nothing,’ I said to the woman. ‘My dad’s been struggling a bit this year and he sent something he regrets. We’re absolutely fine, so please do delete the email. No need to read it.’

I watched her write a note on a piece of paper.

‘I don’t think anyone’s been through the inbox this morning,’ she said. ‘What’s your dad’s name? I’ll do a search.’

‘Alex Brown.’

‘Of course. You’re Ariel.’

She looked at me in that way that adults always did since Mum.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And we’re doing fine. Honestly. Dad’s finding it difficult at times, but Sasha and I are all right. And …’ I paused. It might end up worse if I didn’t flag this up. ‘I think the email might suggest that I’m leaving this school, but I’m not. He didn’t mean it. So please just delete and ignore. He was just a bit confused. Half sleepwalking, you know?’

‘Ooookayyyyy,’ she said in a tone that made me suspect it might not be completely OK. In fact, her OK told me that the very first thing she was going to do when I walked away was search the inbox for my dad’s message, and then she’d probably tell someone else and they would call him.

I texted Izzy:

Where are you? Everything’s gone to shit AGAIN.

2

‘Shut up!’