‘Hello, love,’ said her mother, as she put the car in gear and took off. ‘How was it?’

‘It was good – thirty-nine minutes, twenty seconds and I’m competing in the next round.’

‘Well done, love, that’s amazing news. Your dad will be pleased.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ Claire sank back into the seat and watched the descending darkness of twilight. It was late October and barely five o’clock in the afternoon.

‘I wanted to ask you what you wanted to do for your sixteenth birthday,’ said her mum, her eyes focused on the road. ‘I can’t believe it’s only a couple of weeks away – sixteen! It feels like only yesterday when I brought you home from the hospital. Do you want to have a party at home?’

‘No thanks, Mum, I’ll have a night out with Anne and everyone.’

‘Really? Are you sure? In my day, we always had a party at—’

‘Honestly, Mum, it’s fine.’ Claire shuddered at the thought of the Queen Bees all coming to her house and her parents chaperoning them as if she was eight years old.

‘Well, if you’re sure. Shall I book a meal out then, just the three of us? Or do you want to ask Anne to come as well?’

‘Sounds good, Mum,’ replied Claire, relieved to have it sorted. ‘Don’t forget I’m going out tonight to Charlotte’s sleepover party.’ This would be the third time Claire had gone to Charlotte’s house since she she’d joined the Queen Bees and once she’d solved the problem of getting her hands on alcohol, she’d started to look forward to the many different get-togethers that Charlotte liked to organise. She’d never had such a busy social life before and she wondered when the other girls managed to get their homework done.

Just before the first party, she’d told her mum about the Queen Bees and the two of them had enjoyed a rare moment of mother-daughter bonding. Together they’d chosen an outfit for Claire to wear to the party while her mum had sat on her bed and for once, she didn’t criticise or complain; in fact her mother had even told her about the club she used to be in when she was a teenager and for just a brief moment, Claire saw her as the girl she once was and not as a nagging, annoying mother.

But later, when she snuck a bottle of wine into her bag from her parents’ cupboard, the good feelings evaporated. At the party, she’d managed to work out that most of the girls used Helen’s older brother to get the alcohol and Claire placed her order for the next party, relieved she didn’t have to go sneaking around her parents’ wine cabinet any more. Why Anne hadn’t just mentioned that option in the first place, she would never know.