‘But we haven’t found my dog yet,’ says Ann-Marie. She tosses the phone on to a ratty velvet cushion. ‘He keeps cutting out.’ She looks at Diane. ‘You’re pissed.’

‘I amne,’ says Diane, too loud. Her tone of voice makes Lauren want to laugh, as if she’s inviting an audience. She takes off her tartan shirt, so she is just wearing a black cropped vest. The fire is making the room too hot. Lauren creeps down a few more stairs. Ann-Marie is facing away from her.

Diane says, ‘So you got sent home for a tattoo, is that it?’ Her voice is drawn out with wine. ‘See, when I got that one on my arm, nobody gave it a second glance, man. I wouldna last two seconds, like.’

Lauren can tell she’s pretending to be amazed and dumb, but her voice is hiding something meaner. She carries on. ‘Sounds like you get a punny eccy for as much as fartin’.’

Lauren shoves her hand over her mouth in silent, almost painful laughter. A punny eccy is what secondary pupils are given when they’re in trouble.

Ann-Marie flushes. ‘There were other reasons.’

‘Yeah, like what?’ Diane is chewing on something.

‘They caught me smoking on the roof.’

Diane rolls her eyes.

‘And they said I was being too “aggressive”.’

‘Huh?’

‘With a teacher. That Mr Hutchinson I told you about.’

‘Old Hutchy.’

‘Yeah. I drank too much one night and I “made a scene”. He said he had reason to be worried about me. More like scared.’

Diane laughs and Ann-Marie relaxes. ‘But hey. About that thing, anyway,’ she says, putting a hand on Diane’s shoulder. ‘That thing you told me about, in the pub?’

‘What?’ Diane is already distracted by her phone.

‘Shhh.’ Ann-Marie touches her friend on the shoulder and points to the ceiling.

‘She can join us! And her dad.’ Diane raises her eyebrows.

‘Diane. Look at me. I’m talking about …’ Ann-Marie still has her back to Lauren and half mouths or whispers something to Diane – it’s hard to tell. ‘You know? I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said.’ She points to the ceiling again. ‘She doesn’t seem to know anything about it either. So I just wanted to tell you. I’m gonna find out. See if it’s him or not. We owe it to Christine.’

‘You’re mental.’ Diane looks towards where Lauren is hiding.

Lauren’s heart starts thudding and she scrambles back up the stairs, the carpet burning her palms.

‘Hiya!’ shouts Diane and Lauren freezes like a lizard. ‘It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it? Hey, come down here for a selfie, c’mon.’ Diane’s voice sounds like it is flowing out of a jar. Lauren clambers down shyly, her bare feet slipping on the hardwood floor.

‘Come here, yous two, it’s for my Instagram, eh.’