Pete flopped back on my mattress, spreading his arms wide, as I lit the two oil lamps on the floor. ‘She’s already going nuts about you moving out and bailing on your A levels, you know.’

Guilt bolted through me, an emotional pile-driver boring down through the beery haze as I set the match to the second wick quickly, before it burned my fingers. ‘I might still do them and go to uni. It’s no big deal!’

Pete wasn’t satisfied. ‘What if you get evicted? Then what?’

I shrugged. ‘I’ll come home, I suppose. Or I’ll go somewhere else, with Samantha.’

‘The famous Samantha. When am I going to meet her?’

At that exact moment, I heard the front door close, and soft footsteps on the stairs, pauses where the feet stepped over the broken ones. I knew the sound of her tread, like I knew the sound of the beat of her heart and the number of freckles on her nose. ‘Now, by the sound of it.’

I couldn’t help glancing at my watch. Almost midnight. She’d been AWOL for more than three hours.

Samantha burst into the room, a crumpled cigarette tucked behind her ear and her hair a wild mess at the back of her head, as if she’d been asleep for hours. Or, as Dad used to say, ‘dragged through a hedge backwards’.

‘Honey! Well done you,’ she drawled, rushing over to me and hugging me in the effusive way she always did, the way that ensured no other hug would ever compare.

‘Was it OK?’ I asked, ever anxious for her approval. The hug may have been big, but the words sounded patronising to my insecure ears.

She kissed me full on the lips. ‘It was fine, for a first gig.’

This was not the high praise I’d hoped for, and my face must have fallen.

‘Mez, that’s bollocks. It was brilliant!’ Pete sat up and glared at Samantha, the flickering flame of the oil lamps casting weird shadows across his face.

He obviously wasn’t going to take it well, then. Part of me was impressed that he’d worked it out so quickly. We hadn’t snogged in front of him, so how did he know Samantha wasn’t just a friend? While intuitive in many practical ways, when it came to emotions and love, he could be remarkably slow on the uptake.

‘You must be Pete! I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Samantha. Delighted to meet you.’ She stuck out her hand and subjected him to her highest-watt, most cornfed smile.