Evie rattled off her number and Kym keyed it into her phone, sending a text, just the single word: Hi.

Evie’s phone buzzed softly. ‘And if you get fed up of revising, we can always hang out?’ she went on. ‘You know, if you feel like it.’

And the thing was, she seemed OK, despite her parents, and the private school. There was something sweet and slightly awkward about the offer, as if they were both back in primary school, as if they might have a chance to be friends after all. The summer stretched out threateningly beyond exams. There’d be a job of some description, but no one to talk to – not with Ty out of the picture – no one to listen. ‘Sure,’ Kym said.

It might be useful too, getting to know Evie Wilson a bit better.

‘OK. So. I’ll see you around.’

‘Yeah, see you.’

Kym watched Evie walk up the street and turn into the yard. Apart from anything else, Carolyn Wilson would definitely be pissed off.

Chapter 13

13

‘I don’t see,’ said Maude, ‘why I have to have a babysitter when I’m not actually a baby.’

‘I know,’ said Nell, ‘but I couldn’t leave you here on your own.’ She was trying to do her make-up, only there wasn’t enough light in the bathroom; her face in the mirror had an alarming greenish cast to it, and Maude was blocking the doorway. ‘Think of it as having a friend over.’

Maude brightened at this. ‘Could I ask Evie, then?’

‘Is Evie your friend?’

‘She says hello when we see her in the yard.’ They’d bumped into her a few times over the past week. When she was on her way to the beach, more often than not, tugging Flossie along on her lead.

‘Does that really count?’ Nell fumbled with her eyeliner, frowning. When had everything become an obstacle race; over-coming Maude’s objections, rationalising decisions, suggesting compromises.

‘People usually get to choose their friends for themselves.’

‘Another time,’ Nell said. ‘You can invite Evie over another time.’ She might even say yes, she seemed like a nice girl, thoughtful. ‘Did you check your phone?’ she asked. ‘Were there any messages for me?’

‘No.’

She should check, for herself, she knew, but she wasn’t about to get involved in another argument about rules and boundaries and privacy, another time, maybe, when Maude was in a better mood.

‘What’s she like?’ Maude asked.

‘Who?’

‘Kym?’

‘I don’t know. Nice.’

‘Oh,’ said Maude. ‘Good. Glad to see you checked her out properly.’

*