On and on she rants, breathless, basically saying what I knew everybody would say. I would have to go home. I’m not covered in bruises or burns or broken bones, or any marks I haven’t made myself – I’m just a highly strung, disturbed teenager, along with the rest of them. And I have lying tendencies, or so the last hospital psych seemed to believe anyway as she waved me goodbye after my pathetic attempt on my wrists and ushered me back into the bosom of my loving family. I was twelve, and prone to self-dramatising and hyper-imagining – something Mother liked to tell me over and over following the assessment.

Luce’s grating voice continues, ‘I got up and joined them and pleaded with them to let us take you in. They said they couldn’t do that until you turn eighteen, unless your parents gave their permission. Do you think they’d do that? Give you away? I mean, they really don’t want you around, do they?’

Of course they wouldn’t ‘give me up’, how could Luce be so fucking stupid? What would Mother do if she didn’t have me to torment?

‘Sorry,’ Luce bangs on, ‘I just want you to know that we’re all here for you, and even if you have to go home you can come and have sleepovers any night of the week, they agreed to that. Sure your parents never have a clue where you are. It has to be better than being in that place where you were last night …’ She stops for breath and sits down on the bed heavily, grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, crushing my fingers. I want to remove it, and then she’s kissing my knuckles.

My new pal shimmies back in, looks at me and says to Luce, ‘Maybe you could leave your friend to rest now, dear? She looks exhausted.’

‘I’m Sammy’s oldest friend, and I think I know what’s best for her,’ Luce says. ‘I’ll just stay with her for a while, if you don’t mind. This is kind of an emergency, you know, and I’m the one best placed to deal with it.’ Her voice is all high and mighty.

‘Best placed’ – where did that come from? I think she’s getting off on all this, this drama, this ‘I’m the most important person in her life’ crusade. I wonder is she going to go hysterical, all Crucible-witchy on me, like she did that night after the bottle episode.

I turn on my side and groan. I pretend to retch and the nurse says in a tight, official voice, ‘You’d better leave now.’

She gets up and I can feel her backing away. ‘Are you ok, Sammy?’ she speaks to my back. ‘I won’t be far. I’ll be outside in the waiting room, I’m not going anywhere.’