She finishes sweeping the floor then hoovers the entire flat, removing every trace of their presence; it occurs to her she is removing evidence, but it’s far too risky to involve the police; she’d have to start from the beginning and could be blamed for the break-in. What did she expect, they could ask, since she’d stabbed one of the gang?

One thing is very clear: they can’t stay here much longer; it feels far too dangerous now.

Poppy is on the mattress, muttering in her sleep, her right arm resting on the outside cover. Izzy stares from the bed, narrowing her eyes, but Poppy’s arm is still wrapped up and Izzy can’t see the cut so she turns to look out of the window into the night. The evening worked out okay in the end in spite of the way it began, with Eve pretending that her stupid food and the music and everything were for the kids when it was completely fucking obvious who it was really for. Eve and Martin had been dancing and looking into each other’s eyes and everyone was too drunk or too stupid to see what was going on, except maybe Eric, but it was totally clear he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Dad was pissed out of his mind; he tried to make her dance with him in front of everyone, as if she would. That was when she decided to go upstairs and start the games. It was a party; everyone knows you are supposed to play games at a party. She pulled her little bag of dice from her pocket and led the way upstairs; the others had followed.