‘I’m not down.’

‘You are. Talk to me.’

‘It’s nothing. I’d just rather not spend my Saturday third-wheeling with you and Lewis.’

‘It’s a barbecue, there’ll be loads of people there. We’ll have fun, okay.’ Emma puts her feet on the seat opposite, carelessly kicking the box of cupcakes she brought along. Her toenails are neatly painted in the dark shade of purple they share. ‘It’s the next stop by the way.’ Emma pulls a tissue from a pocket and wipes the lip gloss off. ‘This is way too shiny. Proper blow job lips.’

Yvonne reaches for the tissue and wipes at her own mouth.

The sky looks overcast as they step off the bus, but it’s humid and sticky. Yvonne prays for rain to fall in the next five minutes, a huge storm and an excuse to return home or back into the town centre. She would much rather waste the day browsing clothes she can’t afford and eating a baked potato in the depressing food court than this.

‘Fuck knows where it is from here,’ Emma says. ‘Let me check the address he sent.’

‘Your sense of direction is terrible. I don’t want to be wandering around the suburbs for hours,’ Yvonne complains.

‘He said it’s like a five-minute walk. Here,’ she points her little ski-jump nose in the air and sniffs, ‘just follow the smell of burning animal flesh.’

Emma near enough skips the whole way, the box of cakes bouncing against her legs. They turn off onto a tree-lined street of semi-detached houses, each one covered with pebble dash and accessorised with a Volvo Estate or campervan.

‘Do I look like a Plain Jane?’ Emma asks.

‘You look great.’

‘Urgh, give me that gloss again?’ She wipes it over her lips before hitting the doorbell and turning to Yvonne. ‘20p to whoever spots the first other white person.’

And for the first time that day, Yvonne laughs but before she has a chance to turn back and scold Emma, the door flies open.

‘Whoa, you actually came,’ Lewis says. ‘Hey,’ he looks at Yvonne awkwardly.

‘Dude, we’re still in that student mindset, we’re hardly going to pass up free food.’ Emma stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

‘Course. Come in.’

Yvonne wants to run, but instead she stands there as Lewis wraps his arms around Emma. He pulls away and slaps her arse as she walks into the hallway, ‘Go through. Get a drink.’ Momentarily he fills the doorway and blocks Yvonne’s entry. By coming here she’s agreed to whatever it is he’s trying to do. It’s too late to change her mind now.

‘Good to see you again,’ he says.

She follows him through the hallway, the walls on each side are covered with family photos of Lewis and his brothers, each one a little older and wider than him.