She reaches in the back for her bag as he slams his door and comes round the car towards her. She backs out quickly but he doesn’t give her long enough. He doesn’t see that the strap of her bag has become tangled with the seat belt. When he kicks the door shut, it catches the side of her face and her shoulder, knocking her to the ground. She lies quite still. Bright skewers of pain penetrate the darkness. Her tongue probes salty tatters of flesh in her mouth though her teeth feel unbroken. She turns her head to watch Paul lurch into the house. She rolls on her side trying not to cry. Crying doesn’t make any difference, it simply makes you more tired. She gets up slowly. The world spins and she steadies herself by holding on to the car. After a while she follows Paul into the house and shuts the door behind her.

‘What does she think she’s doing?’ Poppy asks nobody in particular. It’s as though Sorrel has done this on purpose to pay her back; she’s pushed her away enough times. She bites her nails, spitting out the stuff underneath. Everyone’s in bed but no one is sleeping.

‘We could track her down,’ Blake says, ‘in the woods.’

Charley sits up. ‘Let’s try now.’

‘How would that work?’ Izzy asks. ‘Your mum’s downstairs, she’d never allow us out.’

Izzy gets out of bed and on to Poppy’s mattress; she takes Poppy’s hand. ‘We need to stay close to each other now, like sisters.’

Sorrel’s hands are small, her fingers are soft, the nails are bitten. She smells of sweets. Izzy isn’t anything like a sister. Poppy pulls her hand away.

‘We’re stronger if we stay together,’ Izzy says.

‘Like Russell Crowe in Gladiator,’ Blake mutters. ‘You know, before they fight.’

Charley laughs, a hopeful sound that fades quickly in the dark.

‘Do your parents fight?’ Blake asks Poppy.

She shakes her head. ‘They don’t talk very much, well, hardly ever.’

‘That’s fighting,’ Izzy says.

‘Ours do, a bit,’ Blake says.

‘Well, my father hurts my mother, he strangles her,’ Izzy says. She sounds different, angry. They all sit up and stare at her. ‘In sex,’ she adds.

‘How do you know?’ Blake asks.

‘I’ve seen it,’ Izzy replies.

‘That’s so fucked up,’ Charley says.

‘Not as fucked up as yours,’ Izzy laughs. ‘Your dad is screwing Eve.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ Blake says furiously.

Poppy has never heard Blake talk like that to Izzy; normally he’s sort of gentle. Now it sounds like he wants to hit her; she feels the same. Mum and Martin. She wants to be sick.

‘How would you know?’ Charley asks.

‘I sneaked into the room while they were doing it,’ Izzy replies.