‘Oooh, listen to the public schoolgirl,’ teased Mikey, leaning over to kiss her. ‘Were you a prefect? Or vice captain? I like to think of you as captain of vice.’

‘Head girl, actually, until I was expelled.’

The boys looked at her in delight, all their St Trinian’s naughty schoolgirl fantasies made flesh.

‘What for?’ Sam asked, giggling – the dope was strong, and already working its magic.

‘Oh, nothing major. I got pissed and shagged the gardener. I’ve always liked a bit of rough. QED …’ She stretched her long pale arms out and they all started laughing.

‘You’re my Marianne Faithfull,’ said Mikey fondly.

‘I’m so glad you’re taller than Mick. Though I probably wouldn’t have said no when he was younger – there was something about him, wasn’t there?’

‘I’ve always liked Keef,’ said Sam, drawing deeply on the joint.

Dan, who was taking seven more tiles out of the green bag, looked over at her.

‘Thought you’d be more of a One Direction kind of a girl.’

‘Oh, piss off! Just ’cause I’m from Romford, doesn’t mean I like boy bands.’

‘What do you think we are then?’ Dan looked at her again, his gaze challenging.

Sam looked straight back at him, her heart starting to beat a bit faster.

‘Well, you’re boys, and you’re in a band. But you’re not a boy band. You’re proper rock’n’roll, and when you’re older, you’ll be legends, like Filthy Meadows.’ Her horrible day seemed worlds away now. Despite the grungy surroundings, beer and dope, everything seemed so much more wholesome than the Soho environment she’d just left.

‘You’ve just passed the test, Sambo.’ Dan smiled at her, making her feel like the only person in the room, as only he could.

‘As if there were ever any doubt,’ said Sienna, leaning over to put an affectionate arm around Sam’s shoulder. ‘Sam’s one of us.’

And as incongruous as the ‘us’ sounded, when it comprised a billionaire’s plummy-accented daughter, three wannabe rock stars from Manchester and a student-cum-glamour model from Romford, it was an ‘us’ that Sam was more than happy to be part of.

Several hours later, surrounded by overflowing ashtrays, empty beer cans and takeaway pizza boxes, they found themselves looking up Disney songs on YouTube. Olly had passed out on the floor, underneath an old checked blanket that Sam (under Dan’s watchful gaze) had draped over him. Sienna was snuggled on Mikey’s lap in an armchair, Sam curled up at one end of the holey old sofa and Dan perched the other end, as he manned the controls of his thirty-six-inch-screen Mac.

They had already had the best of The Jungle Book – ‘The Bare Necessities’ and ‘I’m the King of the Swingers’ (Sam’s choice, which everyone had applauded), ‘Everybody Wants to Be a Cat’ from The Aristocats (Dan’s choice) and ‘Once Upon a Dream’ from Sleeping Beauty (Sienna’s choice).

‘You’re so gay,’ had been Mikey’s comment on the last. Sienna had responded by telling him it was a Tchaikovsky waltz, calling him a philistine and leaning over for another snog. They looked like a couple of beautiful fallen angels together, thought Sam – Sienna with her white-blonde waves, high cheekbones and bruised dark blue eyes; Mikey with his golden fringe and pretty, pouty, girly face.