It had been a disturbed night. Nevis lay in bed struggling to sleep while lights from passing cars flickered in through the curtains and made play around the walls of the room. Everything seemed off and unfamiliar in the manner of a dream from which she could neither force herself to wake nor depart into sleep. Once or twice, she heard keening sounds coming from the living room but her body felt too heavy to heave from the bed. It was as if her body had been occupied by another soul. She told herself that she did not believe in souls, or spirits, but still the impression remained imprinted on her mind. She wondered if she was ill. A blank dawn arrived. The return of the light seemed to calm her and it was not long before she fell into a fitful sleep.

She pads into the kitchen area and sets the kettle on.

Woken by the noise, Tash appears from under the blanket, blinking. ‘What the fuck time is it?’

‘Just gone half past ten,’ Nevis says, laying down the coffee on the table beside her.

‘Oh God, I wish you hadn’t woken me. I feel like shit.’ She reaches for her tobacco and begins to roll her first cigarette of the morning. ‘It’s still true, isn’t it?’ she says, drawing the smoke into her lungs. She’s sitting up now, dressed in last night’s T-shirt and underwear, with the blanket sprawled across her knees.

‘Yes.’

‘Fuck. You looked on social yet?’

‘They’re saying she was on those pro-suicide websites.’

‘Who’s saying that?’

‘Students.’ Nevis takes a big mouthful of coffee, the bitterness slipping down her throat and souring her stomach.

A pause while Tash takes her first sip of coffee then a grimace. ‘Shitzer, you put the entire bean harvest of a small central American republic in this?’

‘The standard brewing ratio for a 0.35 litre mug is 21.3g. I usually use 26g but I do like the mug to be full right to the top.’

Putting the mug down, Tash flaps a hand in the air to signal that she wants more milk or sugar in the coffee. Nevis goes over to the kitchen and brings both. Tash is already on her phone by the time she returns.

‘They’re saying she was mentally ill.’

Nevis says, ‘I saw her the other day.’

‘Oh?’

‘We talked about the photo of you and her and Satnam, remember?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Tash’s face is sombre suddenly, lips parted, forehead furrowed into a deep frown.

‘Jessica told me you and she started arguing, because you’d got involved with her ex-boyfriend. And then Satnam intervened and you got gnarly with her. She said that all three of you were thinking about leaving Avon because of your grades, and then she implied that something else was going on, too. Is that why Jessica killed herself? Is there a link to what happened to Satnam?’