‘When I was little, my mum was too busy cleaning other people’s homes to have time for ours. There was always this layer of grime. I tried, but I just made it worse, and it freaked me out. So instead, I stayed away as much as I could. When I was older, I figured out how to keep the important areas clean, my side of the bedroom, the bathroom. If I kept to myself, I could just about cope. But then Eddie started vomiting. Everywhere. I’d watch Mum clean it off the carpet, but she’d never do a good enough job. And of course they could never afford to replace it. The bacteria would float around our house, and I’d dream about it landing on me.’

‘Do you think …’ Katherine starts, pausing for a moment to build up some courage. ‘Are you sure it was your brother’s sick that upset you?’ she spurts out.

‘What?’ Ellie pulls away, a centimetre maybe. Katherine squirrels closer, desperate to regain the connection.

‘I just mean that you could have been doing that thing that Dr Sharp talks about: projecting. You thought you hated the dirt, but really you just hated Eddie being ill.’

‘No, that’s stupid,’ Ellie spits out. ‘You’re stupid.’ She flips onto her side with her back towards Katherine.

Shit. She didn’t mean to offend her. ‘I’m sorry,’ Katherine says, trying not to sound whiny. ‘I always say the wrong thing.’

‘I don’t like you talking, telling me what to think. That’s not how you’ll fix me.’

‘Can we rewind? Pretend I didn’t say anything?’

‘I just need to look at you.’ Ellie’s whispered moan wafts up in the darkness. She’s not making sense, but Katherine is too scared to ask her to explain now.

‘Just tell me what to do,’ she says instead.

‘Be here, every day,’ Ellie murmurs. ‘Let me see you.’

‘But why?’

‘Because you make sense of everything.’ Slowly Ellie turns back to face Katherine. Her dark eyes look different, more dangerous, at close range. ‘I look at you, and I know I did the right thing.’

‘What thing?’

‘It’s not your fault that you’re fat, is it? Your dad’s this big Australian farmer, so it’s in your genes.’

‘I guess,’ Katherine mumbles. She has the sense that she’s moving towards a precipice, but slowly, still with a chance of surviving, if she can change course in time.

‘And having such red-raw, ugly skin, you didn’t ask for that either.’

The tears are coming now. Katherine can feel them stinging, but Ellie seems oblivious to the pain she’s causing. Her eyes are staring through Katherine, not at her.

‘Like Eddie,’ Ellie continues. ‘It wasn’t his fault that he vomited, or that he never washed, or that he stole money from mum’s purse. Not really. Not once the drugs took hold.’