‘Yes, so we need to dismantle that system, get everything on an even playing field—’

‘Aye, aye, sure, sure. But you’re not going to do that by turning your own judgement on the women stuck in it – which you do, every time you suggest to Sammi she should let her Afro grow out natural, or me that I’d be better off without my lipstick. You’re setting up one of your false di-whatjamies there, doll.’

Sammi looked about her. Over at the kitchenette, keeping his head down, Gaz was crumbling something into a frying pan of vegetables and lentils, flooding the air with spices. The room felt cosy even though they were all wearing extra jumpers, the fairy lights keeping the cold night outside at bay even though they still didn’t have any curtains. Spider was rummaging through a pile of tapes by the cassette player, tickling Dido under her chin as she wandered over to him. Xanthe and Clio were all warm colours and anger, and they might be disagreeing but they were disagreeing about the way to make the world a better place. This was important stuff they were doing, she thought, in their own little corner, and she felt again so sure she was in the right place, was glad for it. It was maybe the last time she felt that connection between them all in a positive light.

Her posters, which Spider and Mark snuck out to pin up on the site after dark, were methodically ripped down every morning, meaning only late-night bodies wandering outside the Ritzy would see them. Sammi began using the copy room they’d never quite managed to get the magazine going in to crank out smaller versions, then leaflets, the text dictated by Fran and Mark, both leaning over her as she stencilled. The revised plan was to stand outside the site in daytime, directly engaging the people. Sammi took a walk down there on the third day, after work, stood at the other side of the road and watched Fran and her friend being sneered at and ignored in their earnestness.

‘Fran mate, you gonna need to let me do this,’ she said casually over dinner duties that night. ‘You ain’t from here – you ain’t able to reach people. It’s just a matter of knowing how to talk to them, know what I’m saying? Let me do the flyers tomorrow.’

‘We were getting along just fine, thanks,’ Fran said, shutting down like she always did. ‘We had a lot of good conversations with people actually.’

‘What’s all this?’ Mark had pricked up his ears, moved across from the side of the room.

‘I was just saying maybe I should get involved with the action on the streets a bit more. People might listen if it was coming from someone from the area.’