She wondered idly if Paul had been abroad. Shame seeped through her at the thought of him. Would he find out he’d been part of a Queen Bee challenge? Probably. What a shit thing to do to someone. Claire let the blast of the Guns N’ Roses lyrics obliterate her guilt. The worst part of it all was that he was actually really nice. Most boys her age were complete idiots, but Paul seemed different – and that kiss! She hadn’t expected it to feel so…

Intense.

Urgent.

After John Griffith, Claire had kissed other boys at various parties. There was Cameron with his braces and saliva, Rich who had licked her teeth, and Tony – probably the best of a bad bunch, with his eager tongue. But Paul – kissing him reminded her of diving into a swimming pool – that blissful, almost euphoric moment when her body penetrated the water and became something else. And while Claire had been absolutely petrified of making the first move, she recalled how powerful she had felt afterwards.

But she knew she never would have done it had it not been for the Queen Bee club. Claire held up her wrist, imagining the little charms of the bracelet, the glint of silver against the cuff of her school shirt. All the girls who wore the bracelet kept their sleeves slightly higher above the wrist to make sure it could be seen. And you could bet your life on it, Claire would be doing the same.

*

‘Your father is travelling tomorrow, Claire,’ informed her mother at the dining table later that day when they were sitting down for lunch. ‘Why he’s travelling on a Sunday, I have no idea – maybe you can get it out of him.’

Claire looked at her dad. He looked fed up.

‘I already told you, Pat, the conference starts Monday, eight o’clock.’

‘It doesn’t take a whole day to get to London, James.’

‘It does on a Sunday. Look, we’ve been over this. Why don’t we just enjoy our lunch?’ replied James picking up his spoon. He indicated to their daughter, but the gesture was lost on his wife.

‘Well,’ continued Patricia, ‘I had planned to cook a nice Sunday roast followed by a family walk around the park, but there doesn’t seem much point now.’

Her mum had always been big on family outings. Growing up there’d rarely been a weekend when they hadn’t done something. Parks, museums, picnics if the weather was fine. As Claire had got older, she’d been less inclined to go on them, but her mother insisted at least once or twice a month. Claire used to love them but these days they felt forced and she wondered why her mum still clung to the ritual. She suspected it was because it was something to talk about with her friends and neighbours.