‘What do you think we do?’ Holly says, tossing jumpers into the wardrobe. ‘We make her a copy of the key. Unless you actually want to get expelled.’

‘Why would we get expelled? She can’t prove we did anything.’

‘OK: unless you want to never go out again. Because if we do, Joanne can go running to Matron and be all, “Oo Matron I just happened to see them going downstairs and I’m so worried about them,” and then Matron waits and catches us coming back in and then we get expelled.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Julia says, kicking into her pyjama bottoms. ‘I’ll talk to her. I think the hardware place beside the Court does keys.’

‘She’s going to be a total bitch about it,’ Holly says.

‘Yeah, no shit. I’m going to have to apologise to her for what you said, smartarse.’ She means Becca. ‘You think I’m looking forward to grovelling for that ass-faced cow?’

‘You won’t have to,’ Becca says. ‘She’s scared of us now.’

‘For the next ten seconds, she is. Then she’ll turn the whole thing into some drama in her head, like she’s the heroine and we’re the evil witches who tried to burn her to death but she was just too special. And I’ll have to apologise for that, too. And convince her that the key just felt hot because Lenie’d been holding it and her hand was hot from running or whatever.’ Julia climbs into bed and throws herself hard onto her pillow. ‘Fun fun fun.’

Selena says, ‘At least this way we get to keep our key.’

‘We would’ve anyway. We’d have talked her out of it, or just robbed another one. You didn’t need to go all fucking poltergeist on her.’

Becca says, and her voice is tightening up, ‘Better than going all Yes Joanne no Joanne three bags full Joanne, letting that stupid cow be the boss of us—’

The bottle cap hops on the bedside locker and tumbles over. ‘Look!’ Becca yelps, and claps a hand over her mouth as the others hiss ‘Shhh!’ at her. ‘No, look! I did it!’

‘Awesomesauce,’ Holly says. ‘I’m gonna try in the morning.’

‘What are we doing?’ Julia demands, suddenly and vehemently. ‘All this shit; this, and the lights. What are we getting into here?’

The others look at her. In that light she’s the unreadable silhouette from the glade again, propped on her elbows, a tense arc.

‘I’m getting happy,’ Becca says. ‘That’s what I’m getting into.’

Holly says, ‘We’re not blowing stuff up. It’s not like it’s about to go all horrible.’