Six months they’d been communicating. He’d been playing the long game. She’d been so lonely that she hadn’t read the signs. Taz wanted a lot more than she was willing to give.

Morgan was about to type a reply when another line of text flashed on the screen. Time for some shut-eye. Watch out for the bodies behind the walls xxx

Nooooooo. Don’t leave me alone, she typed on autopilot.

Haha, you’ll be OK. You’ll make new friends in school.

Morgan’s features twisted as she contemplated entering yet another classroom of people that she didn’t know.

Laters, she replied, before shutting down her computer.

Tears blurred her vision as she brought her knees to her chest, feeling tiny and insignificant in her bed. But she would not give in to the depression that threatened to take her. ‘Not a word to your da . . .’ Harmony used to say after her weekends away. ‘The social will take ya away if they know you’ve been left alone.’ She was talking about children’s social care. It had happened to a girl in class. Lily, her name was. One day, she didn’t come to school any more. Morgan used to stare at Lily’s empty chair as she sat with her stomach rumbling because nobody was at home to make her a packed lunch. Lily never returned.

Morgan brushed her tears away as she sat in the gloomy room. She needed to escape. It felt like the walls were closing in. She could make a hot drink, warm herself up before she faced the cold. She checked her watch. It was gone 11.30 p.m. Her stomach churned at the thought of seeing Dawn again. Sliding off her covers, she left her room. Naomi had fussed over her before she went to bed, bringing in an extra blanket and asking if she’d had enough to eat. But it was all in the name of keeping her father sweet. Even when she was little, waiting for her mum, Morgan had never felt as alone as she did now.

She blinked as the kitchen lights stung her eyes. It was like walking into a Tardis: on the outside the house looked grotty, but the kitchen was all shiny chrome and spotlights within. Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled down the tub of hot chocolate powder that her father had stocked. As she poured the milk, her teaspoon paused in her mug. Someone was up. There were steps in the hall. Placing the milk in the microwave, she slammed the door. She didn’t want to talk to Naomi or her horrible sister. She would go back to her room, wait until half one, then walk to the graveyard . . .

The microwave pinged, cutting into her thoughts.

‘What are you up to?’

Morgan jumped as a shrill voice rose from behind. She swivelled around, clutching the kitchen countertop.