Conway cupped a forearm round her eyes, blocking out the floodlights, and squinted into the trees. Nothing.

‘D’you know where Julia is?’

‘Didn’t see them. They’re not on the back lawn.’

She eased back into the shadow. Said, for no one farther than me, ‘They’ll be in that glade.’

We were both half-thinking about sneaking up on them, having a quick eavesdrop, see if they were talking hoes and texts and Chris. Not a hope. That pretty little woodlandy path, the one we’d walked that morning: the trees touching above it slashed the light to scraps, left us fumbling. We went crashing along like Land Rovers, twigs snapping, branches flapping, birds losing the head everywhere.

‘Jesus,’ Conway hissed, when I went in a bush up to my knee. ‘Did you never do Boy Scouts, no? Go camping?’

‘Where I’m from? No, I bleeding didn’t. You want me to hotwire a car, no problem.’

‘I can do that myself. I want some woodcraft.’

‘You want some posh bastard who went pheasant-shooting every—’ I caught my foot in something, shot forward flailing. Conway grabbed my elbow before I went on my snot. We snorted with giggles like a pair of kids, sleeves over our mouths, trying to glare each other silent.

‘Shut up—’

‘Fuck’s sake—’

Only made us worse. We’d gone giddy: the moon-stripes swirling the ground under our feet, the spin of rustles spreading out all around us; the hard weight of what we were going to have to do at the end of the path. I was only waiting to see Chris Harper leaping wide-mouthed like a wildcat off a branch in front of us, couldn’t tell if we’d scream like teenage girls or whip out our guns and blow his ghostly arse away—

‘State of you—’

‘Look who’s talking—’

Around a bend, out from under the trees.

Smell of hyacinths.

Up the little rise, in the clearing among the cypresses, the moonlight came down full and untouched. The three of them leaned shoulder to shoulder, legs curled among the bobbing seed-heads; for a second they looked like one triple creature that made my hair lift. Still as an old statue, as smooth and white and as blank-faced. Watching us, three pairs of bottomless eyes. We had stopped laughing.

None of them moved. The hyacinth-smell rose over us like a wave.

Rebecca, shoulder against Selena’s. Her hair was down and she was all patches of black and white, like an illusion. Like one blink would turn her into moonlight on grass.

Beside me Conway said, just loud enough to reach them, ‘Julia.’