The thought of him dragged her all over again into that dark, hot well where her feelings were churning. She would never, ever forgive Nick Ritchie; not for as long as she lived.

She released a long sigh. Her father glanced at her – again – and she shot him a filthy look. His eyes smiled but she wasn’t interested. Her mother reached between the front seats and took Izzy’s outstretched hand.

‘All right back there?’ she said.

Why was it always Izzy who got the sympathy? When they got in last night, after dropping Rosa and Nick home, her mum had yawned and gone up to bed. It wasn’t that Taisie wanted to confide in her, or anything, but she could at least have noticed that she was unhappy. It had taken a huge effort not to cry, but Taisie was sure it showed. Her eyes stung so they must have been red.

The drive home had been totally weird. Nick got into the front even though it was Taisie’s car, leaving her to sit in the back with Rosa. Rosa was all sweet and caring, telling her how much she was going to miss Taisie while she was away, and how she was her best friend. And she kept looking at Taisie worriedly, and oh God, it was so false and put on. Nick talked to her mum, banging on about films he rated. He looked at her only once, in the rear-view mirror; a questioning look, wanting to know if they were all right. Well, they weren’t.

Rory leaned forward and put his sticky hands around her head, blindfolding her.

‘Get off!’

He laughed and let her go.

‘What is the matter, Taisie?’ her dad said. ‘For Christ’s sake, cheer up. You’ve had a face like thunder all morning.’

‘I bet Taisie kissed a boy,’ Alex teased. ‘And he ran away.’

‘Fuck off, you moron.’

‘That’s enough!’ her mother said and slapped her on the leg.

It stung, but Taisie welcomed it. It interrupted her misery, shot it through with energy. She sighed loudly then turned back to the window, put her earphones in and blocked the lot of them. She was not going to let Nick get away with this.

GRACE

Saturday, 14 April 2018 Day Zero

THE WIND CATCHES AT MY HAIR, FLICKING A STRAND across my face where it sticks to my lips. I pull it away and twist it behind my ear. Nick, Lottie and Toffee are running towards me. Toffee is well ahead, but he keeps turning to check they are behind him.

Nick bends double with a stitch and Lottie imitates him.

‘Old man,’ she says. ‘Sort yourself out.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ I say. ‘I might ask Anna Foreman to dinner.’ I watch his reaction carefully.

He’s about to throw a stick, but he stops, arm mid-arc. ‘Anna Foreman?’