‘Just let me out.’ She flung open the door and jumped out before he pulled to the kerb. Now she was out of the car, she heard thumping music, a rapper’s urgent vocals, blaring from the house. All the teenagers on the pavement ignored her as she pushed her way through. ‘Excuse me, excuse me.’

Every single light was on in the house. There were kids milling about on the front garden, drinking and horsing around. Someone had pulled over the recycling bin; its contents were spilled everywhere. A pair of play-fighting teenage boys fell into the hedge.

‘Move aside, please,’ she shouted. ‘Let me through.’

The hallway of her house – her home – was heaving with people all the way back to the kitchen at the rear. Every surface was covered with bottles and cans, and wet with spilled drink. Cigarettes had been ground out on the floorboards, and there were burn holes in the rug she and Kev had bought when they honeymooned in Morocco.

‘Please leave,’ she shouted over the chatter and music, grabbing shoulders, trying to get people’s attention, but nobody took any notice of her. ‘This is my house, you have to go now.’

‘Who’s the old lady?’ One drunken kid burst out laughing at her white hair. ‘Hey, love, your roots are showing.’ Kev took the arm of the kid, who snarled, ‘Don’t touch me, man.’

But Kev was in no mood and jabbed a finger. ‘You and your friends, go home right now.’

Sasha saw a blue light play over the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up outside.

‘Out.’ Kev forced his way to the door of the living room. ‘Out, out, out!’

‘Where’s Angel?’ Sasha asked the teenagers blocking her way.

One of them rolled her eyes. ‘Who’s Angel?’

‘Didn’t she invite you?’ asked Sasha with incomprehension.

‘I heard about the party from a friend and they heard about it on Snapchat.’ The kids laughed. ‘I’ve literally no idea who lives here. Nice place, though.’

‘Please leave now,’ said Sasha, furious.

‘In here,’ shouted Kev over the top of the heads of the crowd, and she saw him in the kitchen. Pushing her way inside, she found Angel slumped on a chair, surrounded by a group of kids. Her daughter was hunched over, her head lolling on her chest, and there was vomit all over the glittery top she wore.

‘Baby,’ cried Sasha. ‘What’s going on?’

Angel’s head lifted for a moment, she muttered something, but her hand was hot and clammy when Sasha squeezed it.

‘What’s she taken?’

‘Nothing, she’s just had too much to drink, as usual,’ said a girl Sasha didn’t recognize. ‘Somebody called an ambulance.’

‘They’re here,’ said Sasha as a pair of paramedics pushed their way into the room.