Alexa took Ellen’s chin in her palm. This time, Ellen didn’t flinch.

‘It is all going to be OK in the end. I promise. You have not done anything wrong.’

Ellen looked unconvinced. Alexa proceeded gingerly.

‘Maybe you should come out of this corner for a bit and sit back down with me. Over there?’

Ellen shook her head, firmly.

Alexa stifled a sigh and put on a gentler, more beseeching voice. ‘Come on. Please. I don’t want you sitting here alone. Next to your own urine.’

A small, small smile.

‘Let’s get some fresh air – it’s probably about time one of us took our turn by the window. We could do it together?’

Ellen smiled, barely. ‘Fine,’ she said, eventually. ‘I’ll come, if you’ll hold my hand.’ Quickly, she added, ‘I didn’t wee on it.’

Alexa looked at her best friend. Her long brown hair was lank, and there was a spot threatening to erupt on her chin.

‘Yes, of course I will. You idiot.’

7. Ellen

As Ellen had hovered over the Perspex box with all the elegance of a barnyard animal, she’d acknowledged that the morning really was not going according to plan.

Especially since she was fairly certain she had weed on her tracksuit bottoms. A glance between her legs confirmed the worst: there was a not inconsiderable wet patch. She hoicked them them up – while trying to remain low to the ground, in case Ben or Jack spotted her bare bottom. Fully decent, she grimaced as she examined the patch in more detail. It was definitely big enough and wet enough to be noticeable to the others. She padded at it desperately with her T-shirt, then observed that this would create an additional problem.

Could she … blow on it to dry it? No, it seemed that her spine definitely did not bend that far. She threw her hand out as she almost lost her balance, clutching the side of a mini-stepladder for safety. Perhaps, if she waited it out for a few minutes, it would dry, she thought, listlessly.

Still, she had to move the box – partly because it smelled, and partly because the liquid was a rather alarming orange colour, which was also making her anxious. She crouched up again, grasping the box – only just – in one hand, and narrowly avoiding thwacking her head against the sloping ceiling, which knocked her over again. After recovering, she balanced the offending item on a cardboard box a metre or so away, and then, hesitating for a second, returned to the same spot. She didn’t feel like rejoining the group yet. She stared at the wall.