And it is strange, because in the half-fogged mirror I saw the parts of his body that I would never accept on myself. Little love handles on the sides. Softness where muscle or bone might be. Sometimes I wonder whether I would be turned on by a man who resembles what I want to look like. Someone with a BMI of less than seventeen per cent. On the forums I trawl through there are images of women who hover beneath eighty pounds. They are skeletons with skin draped over them: gaunt cheeks, hollow eyes. I gaze at their photos, but not with desire. With jealousy. If only I could possess their self-control.

If I could feel that empty.

Then, I think, I would be happy.

Yes.

I wait until I hear Grandma’s soft snores, then I pull out the phone. I make my list. There was butter on my toast—it came buttered—so I only ate four bites. I can feel it, though, being absorbed as fat cells. I can see them springing from my thighs as I turn my phone to silent and put it beneath the pillow. I put my hand between my legs and try to think of Ash instead. Flying down a hill, all speed and grace. Playing the drums, eyes shut, his face glistening with sweat, tilted up, arms a blur. What does he see in me? How is it he can look at me with anything resembling love?

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10

Our first attempt was in my room at Mrs Mulligan’s, on an itchy wool blanket spread on the floor because the frame of my single bed squeaked every time we moved. I was terrified that someone was going to hear us, or burst through the door, and I would be kicked out onto the street in my scanties.

‘You’re not enjoying this,’ Roy said a few minutes in.

‘I’m trying. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not the right time, then. Here, just put your hand there for me, and move it like this—a little faster—not so tight. Yes. There.’

It was so strange I wanted to laugh. Lying on the floor, jerking my hand up and down this pink hot part of him, hearing Roy’s breathing grow quick, seeing his eyes widen and clapping my hand over his mouth when he started to groan. Was this what people really did behind closed doors? Had my parents? Had Mrs Mulligan?