‘You’re sure? You never, like, fell out with her or anything?’

‘Of course not.’

That solved the mystery, such as it was. Didn’t it? Nell wished she could recall their encounter at the bridge, when she’d introduced herself, had she given her maiden name? She wasn’t sure. Anyway, if a person was the year behind, was it still reasonable and normal to claim you had been to school together? Did the distinctions that seemed so important then carry on through later life? Carolyn had seen Nell in an article about the gallery, and seemed to have built up an acquaintance on little more than wishful thinking. There was something though, Nell realised – something prompted by Maude’s question, something to do with a school trip.

‘Well, there you go.’ Maude was looking at the screen intently. ‘Can I check my account? Just to see if there are any messages? Nell? Please?’

Nell sighed. ‘Five minutes.’

‘Fifteen?’

‘Ten. And don’t push your luck.’

‘And then can I go out? To Gina’s?’

‘Straight there and straight back,’ said Nell.

*

There was no sneaking past her mother when she got in; Carolyn was in the kitchen, making a start on dinner. ‘Where on earth have you been?’ she said.

‘I’ve . . .’ Evie couldn’t think. ‘I was at a friend’s.’

‘Sophie? Grace? What happened to the shop? You were supposed to come straight home. You could at least have texted. Well?’

There was no point lying, her mother was perfectly capable of ringing to check, and there was a chance that Grace and Sophie would say no, they hadn’t seen Evie, not for ages now. They might even say why. It was hard to tell just how much Carolyn already knew, and best perhaps to come clean. As her father was fond of saying, it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. ‘Sorry. I was at Kym’s.’

‘At Gina’s house?’ Carolyn didn’t sound very forgiving.

‘No. Kym’s up on Green Lane.’

‘And when did all this happen? This – friendship?’

‘I don’t know.’ Evie wished her mum would let her go up to her room. She was hot and sweaty from the walk back. She felt foolish, and obscurely guilty. ‘School, you know?’

‘And what were you doing?’

‘Revision.’ Carolyn eyed the bag on Evie’s shoulder and for a moment Evie thought she was going to demand she hand it over, so she could search it. The thought made her breathless. ‘We’re in the same English group.’ This part was not a lie.

‘Don’t you think,’ said Carolyn, ‘that you’d get more done working on your own? It’s kind of you to offer to help a classmate, but it’s hardly the best timing.’

‘I’m not . . . She’s perfectly capable, Mum. We were just – going over some notes.’