‘Oh, OK,’ Tash says, sounding surprised, like drinking coffee in the late morning is an odd habit. She moves over to the kettle, fills it with water and takes a bottle of beer from the fridge, prying it open using the counter ledge as a bottle opener, then perches herself among the detritus on the sofa.

‘My flatmates are still in bed so…’ She tails off, leaving Nevis unsure what to make of the information. ‘How’s Satnam?’ Tash says, peeling at the foil on the beer bottle.

‘Probably still in a coma. I think I would have heard if anything had changed.’ As she says this, Nevis wonders if it is true. Surely Narinder didn’t hate her so much that they would keep all news of their daughter from her? But anyway there was evidently a mole at the hospital since it now seems to be general knowledge that Satnam had taken Ritalin.

Tash has stopped fidgeting and is looking genuinely shocked now. ‘OMG, I didn’t realise. I mean, on social it was just like, she took an overdose of Ritalin but she’ll be OK.’

Nevis watches her face, wondering how you’re supposed to know whether or not you can trust people. She feels so heavy right now, like a rock.

Tash says, ‘I don’t know her that well. You realise that, right? We were both in Mark Ratner’s seminar group last year but that’s about it.’

The coffee tastes bitter and muddy and, above all, of sour milk.

‘I didn’t like that last email you sent me. I didn’t like either of them, but I especially didn’t like the last one.’

Tash’s legs begin to jiggle. She takes a sip of her beer. ‘I already said, I was drunk, OK? I was upset. It didn’t mean anything.’

‘Then why are you sending meaningless messages that upset people?’

‘Jesus, Nevis, did anyone ever tell you you’re a fucking pain?’

‘Yes, at school, all the time.’