‘Social services have been round again, have they?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, gulping from my can. ‘They’re supposed to be coming twice a week since the hospital. I’ve been at school though. At least most of the time. Julie said she’s depressed.’

‘Julie?’ she interrupts me. ‘Who the fuck is Julie?’

‘One of the social workers,’ I splutter, bubbles sticking in my throat. I drank too fast. ‘Remember? That nurse from the hospital. And the clinic. The one who thought you were my sister. She shows up with them sometimes … What?’

Rach cracks her knuckles before smacking a hand on the desk.

‘She says Ma can’t take care of herself because she’s depressed,’ I continue, tensing my hand round the can. It’s still nice and cold. ‘Like she’s so sad all the time that she doesn’t even care if Kayleigh’s wet herself, or if she’s eaten nothing but beans from the tin all week, even if Jase has brought us better stuff.’

‘She’s been asking you questions and all?’

‘A few,’ I say, taking another swig. ‘I know her game though, don’t I? It’s easy … I just tell her what she wants to hear.’

‘What about Kayleigh? Has she been OK?’

‘You know she has,’ I say, swallowing. ‘She’s still coughing like she’s a dog or something, but that medicine you brought us is the business. She loves it too, can’t get to the spoon fast enough. She sleeps better too, out like a light – bang. Nothing wakes her, not even the army jets. Where did you get it?’ I drain the rest of my can.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she says, reaching for her coat hung on the back 156of the door. ‘So long as it’s still nice and tidy. Good job, girl. Not doing too badly, are we? Jobs, wheels, cash, the whole bloody lot.’

I snort as she fiddles with her zip. ‘So what’s up with tonight,’ I say, crunching the can into my fist.

‘Jase’s back,’ she says, bending for her bag. ‘Just got the call, didn’t I?’

‘What’s he doing, calling you?’ I toss the can into the overflowing bin in the corner.

‘You were at school.’ She looks up. I pull my blazer around myself.

‘So what’s up with Jase?’ I shake my head as she offers me a tab.

‘Checking in, you know, the usual,’ she says, squeezing through the outer door into the alley behind the row of shops. ‘Look lively, will you?’ She jangles the bunch of keys in her hand.

I push past her, wincing as puddle water flicks on to my bare legs. It’s so narrow there’s no choice about where to stand if I don’t want to step on her feet. There’s a clang and a rattle as the back door bolt finally closes. We pick our way up the alley towards the road.