‘I was telling the girls some of the things I’ve done when I’ve been drunk,’ Katie’s dad said with a laugh. But of course he had no idea about all of the things Mum had been getting up to; that what they saw was not a one-off.

‘Do you want me to take you to the hospital after some breakfast?’ Katie’s mum asked. I stood there, thinking about what to do, how Mum hadn’t been there when I was concussed and decided that I’d call Dad to pick me up.

‘No thank you, I think I’ll just ring my dad,’ I said.

I stepped outside and called Dad. ‘What’s up, bub?’ he asked.

‘My head’s sore, it’s like a migraine or something. I hope it’s not from the concussion.’

‘Have you had some Panadol?’

‘Yeah. I’m at Katie’s. Her mum gave me some. I’m ready to come home.’

‘Okay, I’ll finish marking this essay and then we’ll come get you.’

‘No worries,’ I said. I felt terrible lying to Dad, especially about a headache, that I knew Dad and Caitlin would worry was connected to the concussion.

When I stepped back into the house I said to everyone, ‘Do you mind not saying anything to Dad about Mum?’ Everyone nodded.

Katie’s dad said, ‘We’ll leave that to you, Phoebe.’

I watched music clips with Katie and Jane until Dad and Caitlin pulled into the driveway. Katie, Jane and Katie’s mum all gave me a big hug before I walked to the car. After I climbed in, I leaned between the front seats and kissed Dad and Caitlin.

‘Are you feeling any better, bub?’ Dad asked as we drove away.

‘Not really. I’ve got this constant throb,’ I told them, knowing it would buy me some sympathy and cut me some slack for the rest of the weekend.

‘I made you this, Pheebs,’ Caitlin said, passing me a thermos of hot tea.

As I sipped it, I wondered if I should tell them about Mum’s situation. Then I thought, I’ve got myself the hell away from Mum and her rubbish and that’s enough for now. But as usual, I couldn’t switch my brain off from worrying about Mum, and the nicer Dad and Caitlin were, as they made me yummy snacks and drinks and took time out to chill with me, the worse I felt.

Eventually I went to my room and sat on my bed looking at Caroline’s number, trying to get up the courage to make the call to her giving permission to speak to Trent’s mum. After about a minute, I rang.

‘Yo, what’s up?’ Caroline asked, obviously surprised I was calling. Normally we message.

I took a deep breath and plunged in. ‘I think I want to speak to Trent’s mum about what he did to me.’