“I have . . . trust issues.” Esther snorted at this, but Daisy settled her. “I don’t want you to get to know me through someone else. I want you to get to know me through me.”

“You do?” Esther’s eyebrows shot up.

“I do.” Susan managed an almost-smile. “But . . . I’m not like you. It takes time.”

Susan looked across the room at her two friends—the two people who had started to matter the most—and wondered whether it was enough to want them to understand.

Esther shrugged, glanced at Daisy, and said, “OK.”

Picking up the cards, Daisy looked over at Susan. “Want me to deal you in?”

Over in F-block, McGraw returned from a pleasant Sunday lunch with Ed to find a Post-it Note on his door.

1) J-block, Catterick Hall, is considered out of bounds at all times.

Last night, I believe you breached our terms. Consider this a warning.

4
J-BLOCK UNITED

Esther was painting yellow cobwebs on her black-varnished nails when she heard someone step into her open doorway.

“Hard at work, then?” Susan asked.

“I think I missed my calling.” Esther splayed her fingers and took a photo of her handiwork. There was always a swell of appreciation for dark nail art in the run-up to Halloween.

She watched Susan perch on the end of the bed and clear her throat.

“Are you hinting that you want me to give you a dark magic manicure?” It was too good an opportunity to miss, but as soon as Esther snatched Susan’s hand, she recoiled at the sight. “Eurgh! Wait, no, this is far more horrific than anything I could achieve.”

Ragged cuticles, split nails, scabbed skin—Susan’s hands looked like those of a zombie that had just clawed its way out of the grave.

“Achievement unlocked. I am officially too slovenly for a makeover.” The malevolence in Susan’s grin was dimmed beneath a veil of caution. One day on, and things were still a little tender between them. “Anyway, I’m not here to enable your time wasting.”

She took a card out of her top pocket and handed it to Esther.

“Grace gave me this. We’re all invited.”

Esther looked down at the card, the words HALLOWEEN PARTY in what looked like fake blood catching her attention.

“But you hate parties.” Esther looked up in confusion. “Parties mean people, and you hate people.”

“Not all people.” Susan studied the nubs of her fingernails before muttering, “There’s a couple I think are all right.”

But the last word was barely more than a squawk as Esther barreled in to give Susan a hug.

“Steady on,” Susan said, wriggling her way out of Esther’s arms. “Don’t think I’m going to dress up.”