‘Is it true your dad split her parents up?’ Eddie asks Bee.

‘And she called me Beirut Barbie.’

‘Gigi’s three-quarters Persian,’ Violette tells Bee, ‘so you should have gone for Tehran Barbie.’

‘Barbies are banned in Tehran,’ Gigi says. She kisses Eddie and Violette, all noisy and dramatic.

‘I’m going to get some chewy,’ Eddie says. ‘You want some, Violette?’ She nods and he’s off across the road with Gigi.

‘I can’t believe you’re friends with her,’ Bee says.

‘She’s loyal. In my family that counts for everything.’

They’re awkward with each other. Some nights on the trip, when there was no Charlie or Eddie, they’d stay up talking until god knows what time.

‘I watched you race,’ Violette says.

‘Why didn’t you come and say hello?’ Bee knows it’s a pretty stupid question before she’s even finished asking it. ‘What will you do when your cash runs out? They’ll find you the moment you use an ATM.’

‘I don’t do ATMs. Not even back home. Still got a piggy bank.’

Violette is the weirdest person Bee has ever met. Who doesn’t carry plastic in their wallet, especially when they’re travelling?

‘I saved ten thousand Aussie dollars back home,’ Violette says. ‘For thirteen years. Money from relatives. Pocket money. Working on the farm. Didn’t spend a cent of it until I bought that airline ticket.’

‘Please tell me all that cash isn’t on you now,’ Bee said.

‘As if.’

‘Where’s your gear?’

‘Gigi’s next-door neighbour’s garage. They’re in Turkey for the holidays. Gigi’s brother has to feed the fish.’

‘You’re sleeping there?’ Bee says. Shahbazi was a fantastic liar.

Violette is offhand. ‘We’re laying low before we can take off. Gigi just got her licence, so she’s been driving us around when she can.’

They fall silent for a while. A couple of coppers are hassling some kids their age wearing hoodies.

‘Don’t worry,’ Violette says, seeing Bee’s reaction. ‘They won’t come near us dressed like this.’

She seems to have it all worked out, but there’s sadness in her eyes.

‘You sort of look like shit,’ Violette says.

Bee shrugs. ‘Haven’t been sleeping.’

‘I wanted to say thanks,’ Violette says. ‘You didn’t have to help us get out of France.’

Bee doesn’t know what to say. ‘Do you ever think of them?’ she asks after a moment.

‘Always,’ Violette says. ‘About ten times a day.’

‘Same.’

‘Eddie wants to talk about them all the time. He reckons Michael Stanley gave him his email address and told Eddie to send a playlist. Eddie says he’ll do it regardless.’

‘Did you see anything?’ Bee asks.

‘Manoshi. And that Reggie kid from Brighton. He had blood all over his face, but I read online that he only needed two stitches. What about you?’

Bee nods. ‘Michael. I think Charlie saw some bad stuff and he’s screwed in the head now.’

‘Crombie was screwed in the head to begin with.’

‘Did you hear he’s locked up in Strood?’

‘Yep. Eddie and I have rewritten the NATO phonetic alphabet in honour of him. Arsehole. Bastard. Charlie. Dickhead. Excrement. Fuckwit . . .’