“Daisy, Esther, you know Kully,” Susan said. “And this is Grace Latter. The work-hard–play-hard variety of medical student.”

If Kully’s beam was the trademark of a man who knew exactly how good he looked, Grace’s crease of the lips was the dying effort of someone far too hungover to care about anything other than not being sick. She had a heart-shaped face and pretty blue eyes, with lilac hair pulled back in a scraggy ponytail, and she appeared to be wearing clothes three times too big for her judging by how far she’d had to roll back the cuffs of her sweater.

“Hi.” Grace took a single, delicate nibble from a slice of dry toast. Every finger—even her thumbs—had an interesting-looking silver ring on it. “It seems I woke up in hell.”

“Clearly you’re not familiar with the city of Northampton,” Susan said. “Legend has it that if you see a bus depot and say the name backward, a portal will open to spit you out through the hellmouth and into the city.”

“And do those of us with a Young Person’s Railcard get a third off?” Esther inquired.

“Of course.” A malevolent grin crept across Susan’s face. “A third off your life.”

“Erk.” Grace slowly folded over, like a balloon from which the air was escaping.

“So, anyway . . .” Kully pushed a glass of water closer to Grace. “What are you doing up so early? I thought English students just stayed in bed all day.”

“Not when there’s a seven A.M. class down at the gym.” Esther put her spoon down to poke her bicep speculatively. “I’m going to hurt so much tomorrow . . .”

“Stop it. Your good health is making Grace ill.” Susan nodded across the table to where Grace was struggling up from the table to make a bolt for the toilets.

“I think that might have more to do with her hangover than Esther’s gym talk,” Kully said as they all watched Grace barge through the students still queuing for food, scattering them like bowling pins. “She drank the corridor party dry last night. Wasn’t in a fit state to get back to hers, so she slept on my floor.” A frown drove two straight lines between Kully’s brows the way one might Photoshop “consternation” onto the face of a male model. “I hope she isn’t about to be sick on the clean clothes I lent her.”

As Susan and Kully moved on to talk about their subject the way everyone did if they had a quorum of two, Daisy carefully quartered her apple. Not having participated in much of the discussion meant she’d already eaten her granola and yogurt, and she was trying to slow herself down so she didn’t have to just sit there with an empty plate and an interested expression.