As much as I try to act normal, the fact remains that I can’t meet Grace’s eye. And it’s not because she’s caught me talking out loud to a book, or because I spotted her with Andrew, it’s because of what else happened on Friday night.

Let me paint the scene:

It is the aforementioned birthday party, a massively exaggerated affair attended by almost the entire year level, including the boarders who were bussed in and kept on a huge leash made from hundreds of school ties knotted together. No one has stopped talking about it all week: who hooked up with who, who spewed on one of the family cars, who was rejected by which Grammar boy and who smoked pot in the laneway out the back.

Is it abnormal to obsess over a party while someone you know is imprisoned in a house somewhere far from home? I think we all know the answer to that question.

We, by which I mean my lady squad and I, arrived fashionably late. Despite the fairy lights and the gazebo and the waiters with bow ties and the sparkling turquoise pool, the Chapmans’ backyard did not so much resemble a sophisticated soiree as a scene from a zombie film where the zombies can’t decide whether to eat brains or hump each other on the dance floor. As one of the few responsible non-zombies present, it was I who went to inform the adults that the bathrooms were fresh out of toilet paper.

It was I who followed Mr Chapman upstairs to fetch the paper, and it was I who was diverted into the study so Chapman could fetch more whisky, which he’d clearly had quite a bit of already. This was sketchy but ideal because I may or may not have remembered from my Balmoral brain catalogue that Grace’s dad is a detective and this may or may not have encouraged my very attendance at the soiree that evening. Do not underestimate my ability to focus on my goals.

Me: Is it true you’re a detective?

Chapman: Have you girls been talking about me behind my back?

Me: (Vomits a little bit inside my own mouth but carries on.) Haha, yeah of course. You’re all we talk about.

Chapman: I used to be, I’m in security consulting now. I was in the force for twenty years. The drug squad, then the homicide squad.

Me: So, do you still get access to inside information then?

Chapman: (Vagues out slightly while pouring whisky before snapping to.) You mean about the Mitchell case? You two were—

Me: Yes, of course, about Yin. Have you heard anything?

Chapman: I’ve heard they’ve sought advice from the FBI, so they’re taking it very seriously. (Leans sloppily on desk.) They’ll make another announcement soon, I think.

Me: What kind of announcement? Tell me.