I only remember having one real friend at school. Her name was Louise. She had frizzy ginger hair and bowlegs. She played the violin and, like me, she avoided sports and was wary of every other girl in the school. They called us ‘The Guppies’ because it made us sound ugly. I think a few of them were jealous at just how tight we were with each other. We were the least popular girls in our year. It didn’t bother us, though, as we had each other. Louise wasn’t allowed to visit me at home and nor was I allowed to go to her house. If I asked for permission, my father would say, ‘Better to be in the company of those that care for you than those who might be indifferent to your wellbeing.’ I never thought of a clever answer to this and even if I had I would never have dared say it to his face.

One spring term, when I was fifteen, Louise and I took a chance and told our respective parents that they were holding optional revision classes at school on Saturday mornings. My father liked the idea of extra revision and so gave me permission to attend. I wore my school uniform and took a large bag topped up with schoolbooks to conceal the alternative outfit underneath. Louise and I both got on the bus that went to school but stayed on it all the way to Brighton town centre. Once there we changed into our jeans and crop tops and paraded around the town trying to attract the attention of boys.

These Saturday jaunts became the best part of my heavily restricted life. We had limited success with the boys as we both tended to clam up if a member of the opposite sex spoke to us. We did, however, have success at stealing stuff from the shops. Our primary target was cheap makeup.

The best shops to steal from were Boots, Superdrug and the small independent chemists. We would target the cheaper makeups such as Rimmel and Max Factor as they were subject to less store security. Lipsticks would disappear into our pockets and eyeliner and eye shadow trays would be dropped into my large bag. We always just stole one item from each shop in the belief that its presence in the bag or in our pocket could be explained away as a mistake.