‘Aren’t you a surprise,’ she said, pleased. ‘Give me a moment. I’ve just got to get all my lot off. Clear up the carnage they made.’ She trotted quickly back to the building.

Sheanna came out in her pink coat with two girls close behind, whispering to each other. One of them kept poking Sheanna in the back, and her head came down, trying to ignore them.

There were methods for dealing with bullies. There’d always be a training day before camp started, learning how to deal with kids who were homesick or ill, or at the darker end of things, cutting themselves or fighting or abuse at home. Excruciating role-plays and some bad diagrams projected on an OHP.

Time to ignore all the advice. Matty followed them out of the gate, caught up with them before they got too close to the cars. ‘Oi.’

The girls turned round. One had reindeer antlers on a headband, and the other fluffy cream-coloured earmuffs.

Matty crouched down, elbows on knees. ‘Sheanna’s my mate.’

They looked at each other. The reindeer girl had a little bubble of pale green snot in one nostril.

‘Did you hear me?’ Best quiet-assassin voice.

They both nodded. Not such bullies now.

‘You two say anything to her again, or try anything, I’ll pull your fingernails out. One by one. Then maybe your fingers.’

The reindeer girl curled her lip. ‘You can’t say that.’ Her friend nudged her.

‘Yeah, well, I just did. You see me talking to Ms Kilduff?’ They both nodded.

‘Well, she’s my friend, too. I’m going to tell her all about what you’ve been doing.’

The mouth of the reindeer girl was open.

‘Go on, piss off, both of you.’

They walked past, and then ran.

Sheanna was standing a few metres back, watching. Her eyes big.

***

‘Well, you’re unexpected, that’s for sure.’

They were in the bath, opposite each other, Matty with elbows on drawn-up knees, Brigid with one leg resting on the side, gazing over. Essential oils curled on the surface of the water, and the classical music station was on in the next room.

Matty lowered a cheek down, looked away. Same old. Brigid wasn’t that different from anyone else after all.

‘Not like that,’ Brigid said. ‘For me, I mean. Not in and of yourself.’ She swilled water over her sternum. Her black pubic hair had the slightest seaweed-float. ‘Did you always …?’

They always had to ask. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Is it different in London? I remember being on the London Underground, and there was a guy all dressed up as a tin man, and no one batted an eyelid.’

A tin man. That was about right. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes.’ And sometimes, it didn’t matter where you went, because you might still get the double-takes, the change in tone of their voice. Matty drew both knees up more tightly.