The sunset light feels different, a slow grind like fingernails across every bit of bare skin.

‘But,’ Becca says, bewildered, ‘you don’t even really know him.’

Julia whips up her head and stares, teeth bared about to bite, but then Holly starts to laugh. After a second Selena joins in and at last even Julia, head falling back on the grass. ‘What?’ Becca wants to know, but they’re gone, their whole bodies are shaking with it and Selena is curled up to hold herself: ‘The way you said it!’ And ‘The face on you,’ Holly gasps, ‘“You’ve barely been properly introduced, dahling, why to goodness would he share his little friend with you?”’ and the fake English accent has Becca blushing and giggling too. Julia hoots up at the sky, ‘I don’t believe we’ve even taken tea and . . . and . . . and cucumber sandwiches together . . .’ and Holly manages, ‘Dicks should never be served until after the cucumber sandwiches . . .’

‘Oh, God,’ Julia says, wiping her eyes, when it dies down. ‘Oh, Becsie baby, what would we do without you?’

‘It wasn’t that funny,’ Becca says, still red and grinning and not sure whether to be embarrassed.

‘Probably not,’ Julia says. ‘But that’s not the point.’ She props herself up on her elbow again and fishes in her pocket for her phone.

‘Let’s see,’ Holly says, sitting up and scooting over to Julia.

‘I’m deleting it.’

‘So let’s see first.’

‘You’re a pervert.’

‘Me too,’ Selena says cheerfully. ‘If you’re scarred for life, we want to be too.’

‘God, don’t be so gay,’ Julia says. ‘It’s a dick pic, not some kind of bonding experience.’ But she hits buttons, finding the picture.

‘Becs,’ Holly says. ‘Coming?’

‘Ew. No.’ Becca twists her head away, so she doesn’t see by accident.

‘Here you go,’ Julia says, and hits Open.

Holly and Selena lean in against her shoulders. Julia pretends to look, but her eyes slide past the phone, into the shadows. Selena feels her spine clamp up, and leans harder.

They don’t giggle or scream, the way they did when they went looking online. Those were primped and plastic as Barbie, no way could you imagine a real guy attached. This is different: smaller; shoving itself up at them like a thick middle finger, like a threat, out of a mess of dark sticky hair. They can smell it.

‘If that was the best I could come up with,’ Holly says coolly, after a moment, ‘I wouldn’t exactly advertise it.’

Julia doesn’t look up.

‘You should text him back,’ Selena says. ‘“Sorry, can’t tell what pic is, way too small.”’

‘And get a close-up. Yeah, no thanks.’ But the corner of Julia’s mouth twitches up.