I nearly walk straight back out again. Daisy, Al, Leanne, Kane, Shona and the two Swedish girls are sitting in the corner. They’re drinking tea and smoking roll-ups, a plate of dried crackers on a chipped plate in front of them. They glance over as I walk in. Daisy looks me up and down then bursts out laughing. Al nudges her to stop, but she ignores her and twists to whisper something into Leanne’s ear. Leanne glances at me then starts to laugh, too.

Does Daisy know who Leanne is? I’m pretty sure Al doesn’t, or she would have told me – and I didn’t get the chance to tell her myself before Isaac dragged me out of the shower cubicle. But Leanne and Daisy have been living in each other’s pockets for days now. Would Leanne have told her?

I ignore them and head to the food table. With Raj trapped in the kitchen with Cera, no one has cleared the breakfast table and I pounce on the scraps that are left. A piece of green mango goes into my mouth first, swiftly followed by a handful of walnuts and the tiny teaspoonful of goat’s yoghurt I scrape from a tin bowl. I flip open the door to the bread bin. There’s half a slice of bread left. I grab it and I’m about to put it in my mouth when someone knocks into me. The bread flies from my hand and falls to the floor. I squat down to reach for it, but a grubby foot gets there first.

“Whoops.” Leanne grinds the bread into the floor with the heel of her flip-flop. “I’m so clumsy. Sorry, Emma.”

“Leave me alone, Leanne.”

“Or what?” She laughs again. Now that I know she and Isaac are related, I can see the similarity in their eyes. Isaac and Leanne’s eyes aren’t the same shade of brown but they’re the same almond shape, framed with thick black lashes. “You have no idea how much has changed since your detox.”

I want to tell her that I know her secret, and that I think she’s a total bitch for what she wrote in her emails to Isaac, but I have to bite my tongue. At least until I’ve told Al. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” She gives a small smile then kicks the piece of bread under the serving table and drifts out of the room.

The second she’s out of sight, I drop to my knees and reach for the bread. As my fingertips graze the crust, there’s a clattering sound; half a dozen teaspoons spin on the floor beside me, and a woman swears loudly.