I mumble that I don’t know. I couldn’t see clearly in the dark.

‘Why were you dressed like that, Samantha? What were you doing drinking spirits outside in the dark, dressed like that?’

In answer, Luce pukes the hot milk all over her blanket.

‘That’s enough, Kate,’ Mr O’D says to his wife. ‘Samantha may need stitches. I’m taking her to the hospital.’

‘What about the police? Shouldn’t we call them straight away?’ good ole Uncle Bob chimes in.

Mrs and Mr O’D exchange a knowing glance, like maybe the police wouldn’t be the best idea right now. Thank fuck.

‘Let’s get the girls sorted first, have a chat, before we involve the police. That procedure can be invasive and quite traumatic. I’ll take her to the hospital first.’

‘What about Lucy?’ Mrs O’D asks, hovering over her like a giant hippo protecting her baby from a predator, like maybe a lion, or a cheetah, or a fully grown hyena.

‘Come here, love.’ He extends an arm towards his daughter. ‘Did anyone touch you?

She shakes her head.

‘Did you see what happened?’

Luce looks to me for prompting and I nod. She mirrors me.

‘Kate, you stay with Lucy while she has some rest,’ he says, in a stop-with-your-nonsense-wife voice.

I wish Dad would pull that tone on Mother once in a while, instead of his wheedling Mr Nice Guy act, which usually ends with her shouting at him, him giving her money for her supplies, and then leaving.

‘Samantha needs to be looked at,’ Mr O’D continues in that commanding way that makes my knees shake.

‘What about her parents? Won’t they be worried?’ Mrs O’D says, not looking at me, trying to put on a veneer of concern.

‘My parents don’t care.’

There is a silence, and then Mr O’D cuts through it. ‘I’m sure that’s not true. You’re overwrought.’

‘Well go on then, try ringing them.’ I hand him my mobile, challenging him, which I bet no one in this house does, and which I think he’s enjoying, maybe just as much as me. ‘You could ring and ring and no one will pick up, they don’t even know I’m not there.’

He calls, and sure enough no one answers. He gives up after three tries and leaves a message. ‘This is Dr O’Donoghue. We have Sam here with us. She is going to be admitted to hospital following an incident. Don’t worry, she’s going to be fine. Call me as soon as you get this message.’

‘Incident’ – that’s a funny one. And ‘worry’ – that’s even funnier.

‘I’m not letting Sam go alone,’ Luce says.

‘I’m fine. I’m not alone, I’m with your dad.’ The doc extraordinaire.