Ellen looked up as Alexa approached. She said nothing, but wriggled along to make a little room for her to sit down. Alexa wrinkled her nose – she could smell the contents of the Perspex box – and then sat down, her back to the boys. The attic’s acoustics were unfamiliar, but she knew their voices would carry from down here. She snaked an arm around Ellen’s shoulders, but her friend remained stiff. Alexa withdrew her arm and placed it in her lap, feeling uncommonly clumsy.

‘Hey,’ she mouthed, trying a smile.

Ellen glanced sideways at her. She looked a little abashed. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed. ‘About all that.’ She continued, softly, ‘I just … I can’t believe –’

Alexa gave her a wan smile. She could see Ellen relaxing slightly. From metres away, they heard Jack clear his throat.

‘What are you thinking?’ Ellen asked, after a minute.

Alexa looked at her, hard. ‘Well,’ she muttered, finally. ‘I’m thinking that Rainham Romeo was a dick.’

She’d hoped this might conjure a smile, but Ellen was impassive. She continued carefully.

‘It could have been Ben,’ she started, slowly. ‘You clearly knew each other – well, almost – at school.’ She swallowed. She could feel how much Ellen was concentrating on what she said next; her breaths were stuttering and shallow. Alexa continued. ‘In which case, it could be that he doesn’t remember.’ Alexa felt Ellen gently flinch. She added, quickly, ‘He seems genuinely bewildered, though that’s not conclusive either way.’ She hesitated. ‘There is also a chance’ – yet another pause, this was delicate – ‘that you could have … have got him mixed up. With someone else.’ Alexa had been staring dead ahead as she spoke, but now turned to meet Ellen’s eyes.

Ellen avoided hers, instead casting a fierce glance at the ceiling, as though she was trying to recall a fact she’d once known. After a second, she shook her head, defeated.

‘That name, though,’ she muttered. With this conversation taking place just above a whisper, it was not clear if this was to herself, or to Alexa. ‘I just remember it so well.’ She shook her head, and in doing so seemed to find a little conviction. ‘Plus, really, what are the chances? Same town, same schools, we know so many people in common. You heard us, before it all started.’

‘Well …’ Alexa began slowly, quietly. ‘It could have been him and he’s lying.’ She wasn’t sure if she believed that or not.

‘He doesn’t seem like he’s lying,’ Ellen admitted, reluctantly. She looked at Alexa. ‘Though’ – the merest of teasing smiles – ‘he could be a sociopath.’

Alexa tried a pained smile in return.

They sat, cross-legged, knees nudging, for a few minutes. Alexa could hear Ellen’s breaths rise and fall. She thought of Ben, metres away. She really hoped he wasn’t lying.