Finding her, days later, crying in the bathroom, Eliza had hugged her, and hugged her, and made her tell her everything. Then she’d told Sarah that she’d had no idea what Veronica had done – Veronica had said Sarah was ill in bed. And she didn’t care what Adam thought, she’d never liked Veronica anyway, she’d only been hanging out with her because she was there, and she knew it would annoy Sarah. ‘Sorry,’ she’d added. Her tanned arms squeezed Sarah’s tiny frame. She smelled of coconut sunscreen. And bubblegum lip gloss. Sarah breathed her in, and Eliza squeezed tighter. Then she told Sarah – softly, sincerely – that she knew the two of them had been fighting lately, that things were different, but Sarah was still her sister, always her sister. Always. So she would always be in her corner, on her side. And at least Sarah had been the bigger person, and done nothing of which she should feel ashamed.

Despite teenage-dom, Eliza was as fluent as Sarah in the family mantras.

People evolve though, don’t they?

They meander.

Simone

Simone dresses in jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and a blazer she bought a few years back from a thrift shop. Outside the school gate, she stamps out her cigarette. She remembers how to play this part, though now it feels like dress-up. The teachers don’t seem to notice. In the head’s office, they are easily convinced. They tell her about the ‘incident’, the morning after her fight with Terry – how Dominic arrived late, as he does most mornings they add, then kicked over a classroom chair when the teacher asked him a question about the homework. In turn, she promises to have words with him, agreeing with the school that boundaries need to be set. It’s that age, isn’t it, she volunteers, when they start to act out a bit; she’ll talk to him. Also, there’s the general lack of concentration, the panel of teachers persist – more politely now that she seems one of them – and the detachment, has she noticed him tuning out sometimes? Because it’s not that he doesn’t have potential. But he must make an effort, he must stay on top of things, and of course any kind of violence cannot be tolerated. Simone smiles and agrees and bemoans that she doesn’t know where it has come from.

A nod to the secretary as she exits the building completes the exchange of adult exasperation. Simone makes it through the heavy door and down the steps, her palm slowly stroking the railing, flesh finding fortification in cool iron. But at the bottom she has to let go, and it is before she has left the playground that she collapses into a torrent of tears, unbefitting of her blazer, crouching on the concrete. She has told Dominic’s teachers exactly what her parents would have said about her, what they did say, to her – they didn’t know where it had all come from.