‘Melissa, is it?’ On the doorstep, she turned and contemplated me.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Me? Of course.’ I smiled quizzically. ‘Why would I not be? Just worried about getting this all sorted, that’s all.’

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just – you know how to contact me if necessary.’

Back in the room, still feeling sick, I sat beside Cecilia on the sofa.

‘Ces…’ I began. Rex was on his way back, and I wanted to say this before it was too late.

She stared off into the middle distance.

‘What do you want to do, Ceci?’

She looked at me as if she’d forgotten I was there. She shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘OK. So – about your dad. We don’t need to tell your dad about this, do we?’ I patted her knee. ‘Unless – do you want to? Entirely your call.’ I stared at her, willing her to say what I wanted her to.

‘I dunno.’ Cecilia frowned.

‘I mean, I thought you might not want to talk about the drugs—’

‘What drugs?’ Now she stared at me, and I thought what an unusual colour they were, her grey-green eyes. Luminous; beautiful. Turned her from quite ordinary to exceptional.

‘Well…’

Her phone pinged: I saw Willow’s name pop on the screen.

Cecilia grabbed it and stood up. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’

I sat at the table, head in hands, worrying.

In front of me, a copy of Marcus’s ‘YOUTH: LET’S VOTE!’ brochure that Rex had brought home on Friday. I’d flicked through it idly, surprised to see some photos of the teens round the campfire, Zach in the forefront.

I remembered Cecilia being so ill on the camping trip.

Had Zach forced her to eat the brownies? Was I being blind to the boy I thought I knew? Surely not…

As if we were connected psychically through the stratosphere, Ruby called.

She left a pretty frantic message.

Honestly, I did feel for her.

I just couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone, or to ring her back.

I knew it was all rubbish now, at least, but I didn’t know what to say yet.

I was already working on how I might be able to hold on to this friendship: it was keeping me afloat.

But right now, I was more worried about Rex’s reaction.

Ruby

What do you do when the first person you want to talk to in a crisis is dead, and the second isn’t answering your calls?

You try the third.

On Sunday night, having failed to get hold of Melissa all afternoon, I called my daughter Ali in Berlin.

It seemed a strange relief that she picked up straight away.

At first, I was just glad she was safe. Next, to my great shame, I cried, and then I told her, in creaking, uncertain words, what her brother had been accused of.

‘But there’s no way, is there?’ she said, with huge animation. ‘Just no way Zach would do that.’

And I cried again, a bit, for all sorts of reasons I might not want to admit to myself. And then I apologised, profusely, for the tears.