Archer Crescent was a half-moon of yellow stone houses set on a hill. They looked down over the river and sat a few hundred metres away from the boathouse. Number 29 was at the furthest end. Chloe looked down at her feet as they moved over the cobbled street and pulled her coat closer around her. It was cheap acrylic and the wind seemed to find its way up the sleeves and down the neck. She sniffed, hoping the cold wouldn’t have made her face too pink. Her nail varnish was chipped, she realized, as she pressed her finger to the porcelain doorbell.

She heard the bell, shrill and old-fashioned, sound inside and after a few minutes feet on the stairs. The door swung open and standing in the warm yellow light was Zadie.

Her feet were bare on the stone floor, her hair piled up on top of her head. She wore a pair of pyjama shorts, a man’s jumper and an excited expression.

‘Chloe!’ she cried, throwing her arms around her. ‘You’re freezing! Come in, come in.’

Stepping over the threshold, Chloe tried to keep her face expressionless. There were bunches of flowers in vases on every surface. Art on the walls. The hall led down to a huge kitchen with a dining table and sixteen chairs.

How could a bunch of students afford to live here? How could anyone afford to live here?

‘Come upstairs,’ said Zadie, taking the steps two at a time. ‘I’m still getting ready.’

‘Ready?’ said Chloe to Zadie’s back. ‘For what?’

Zadie stopped, throwing open the door to an enormous bedroom. She turned, looking surprised. ‘I didn’t tell you? We’re having a party.’ She went to the wardrobe, which ran almost the length of the room, and pulled open the doors. It was stuffed full of garments on hangers. Dresses, T-shirts, jackets, and jumpers Chloe didn’t need to touch to know they were cashmere.

‘This place is amazing,’ she said, taking it all in. ‘No wonder you don’t want to live in our room.’

Zadie laughed. ‘Isn’t it obscene? Max’s parents bought it when they found out he was coming here, so that he could be close to the gym. They’re loaded, and he’s their little prince. Can’t do wrong, nothing ever good enough. You know the type.’

Chloe didn’t know the type, but she didn’t say that. ‘Does Max play rugby?’

Zadie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, but do not ask him about it, otherwise he’ll want to talk about it and, honestly, the only thing more boring than watching rugby is listening to people talk about it. He only came to uni here because it’s so good for sport. And then I came here because I’m pathetic and I missed him.’