Conway nodded. ‘Yeah. And I’m hoping she’s scareder now.’ She threw back coffee, eyes on the hockey. One of the little girls took another one down, whack to the shins, vicious enough that we heard it. ‘Holly and her gang, though. Back before, there was something about them, yeah. They were quirky or whatever, yeah. Now, though, Orla’s an idiot but she’s right: they’re weird.’

It took me till then to put my finger on it, what was different about them, or some of it. This: Joanne and all hers were what they thought I wanted them to be. What they thought guys wanted them to be, grown-ups wanted them to be, the world wanted them to be.

Holly’s lot were what they were. When they played thick or smart-arsed or demure, it was what they wanted to play. For their reasons, not mine.

Danger again, shimmering down my back with the sun.

I thought about saying it to Conway. Couldn’t work out how, without sounding like a nutter.

‘Selena,’ Conway said, ‘she’s the one that’s changed most. Last year, she was away with the fairies, all right – you could tell she had one of those dream-catcher things over her bed, or some unicorny shite that said “Believe in Your Dreams” – but nothing that stuck out a mile. And I put half of the spacy down to shock, specially if Chris had been her boyfriend. Now . . .’ She blew out a hiss of breath between her teeth. ‘I met her now, I’d say she was one rich daddy away from special school.’

I said, ‘I wouldn’t.’

That got Conway’s eyes off the hockey. ‘You think she’s putting it on?’

‘Not that.’ Took me a second to say it right. ‘The spacy’s real, all right. But I think there’s more underneath, and she’s using the spacy to hide it.’

‘Huh,’ Conway said. Thought back. ‘What Orla said about her hair, Selena’s? Last year that was down to her arse. Deadly hair, real blond, wavy, the rest would’ve killed for it. How many girls that age wear their hair that short?’

I’m not up on teen fashion. ‘Not a lot?’

‘When we go back in there, keep an eye out. Unless someone’s had cancer, bet you Selena’s the only one.’

I drank my coffee. Good stuff, would’ve been better if Conway had cared that not everyone takes it black. I said, ‘How about Julia?’

Conway said, ‘What’d you think of her? Hard little bitch, yeah?’

‘Tough enough, for her age. Smart, too.’