‘Ah, it’s not so bad. The poor old bird is comatose up there now. Better than your one, always sticking her nose into things and making judgements on people she doesn’t even know.’

Luce goes silent.

‘Let’s go to a posh hotel now, before anyone realises what’s happened,’ I say.

‘Don’t you need your passport to book a room?’

‘Everywhere?’ Shit. I’m gonna have to rethink this plan cos Dad keeps all our passports in a top-secret file somewhere. ‘Do all those Eastern European girls have passports? I hear some of them are imported and given false ID. I could pose as one of those.’ My stomach tumbles; I feel the edge of exhilaration as a plan starts to form, as inspiration takes hold. ‘I saw a documentary about it. They’re young. I could be one of those girls.’

‘Yeah, what a genius idea! Go find yourself a violent pimp and go work for him for nothing.’

‘Nah, I’m not so stupid as all that. I need to earn some money. Brian taught me a trick or two.’

This idea, once aired, hangs in the air between us and gains solidity until it feels like a hard wall has been erected between us.

‘Brian’s such an asshole,’ she says, trying to smash through it. ‘Big thicko. Kept back two years. I don’t know why you let him anywhere near you.’

I ignore this. We both know all the girls in class fancy him. Except for Luce. And she’s jealous.

‘My name is Natasha,’ I say, giddy.

‘I won’t stand by and watch you do this,’ she says.

What, like you didn’t stand by and watch me last night, or in Topshop when I lifted the goodies, or in the offy the other day, or behind the bicycle sheds? I don’t say anything, but start to walk in the direction of this dodgy place where Brian took me, my wheelie bag jolting over every bump in the road.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Luce asks.

‘I really think it’s time you went home. Your mum’ll have a fit if she sees you’re gone. And you know who she’ll blame. I don’t fancy being at the sharp end of her tongue again.’

‘I can’t let you do this.’

‘You really don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s my life, Lucy Lou.’

She’s still following, so I decide I have to be cruel now to be kind. The first cut is the deepest and all that, so I turn to her and say, ‘Fuck off home, Lucy Poo. I’ve had enough of your puppy-dog face following me wherever I go. Sandra’s right. You are obsessed …’