Bessie pressed play on her tape recorder, then pulled down her cheek with one finger and closed her eye, the lid of which was already painted with bright metallic-blue eyeshadow. With her other hand she ran the creamy tip of the dark green kohl pencil over her upper eyelid, close to her lashes. She blinked and studied the effect in her little make-up mirror with the iridescent back. It felt important to look as fabulous as possible today. Whenever possible, she and Michelle liked to match outfits and make-up, so it was absolutely clear they were best friends.

They didn’t look alike, not one bit. Michelle was dark-haired, petite yet curvy, whereas Bessie was mousy with a rather flat figure, more test tube than hourglass, but with the right clothes, colour scheme and attention to accessories, they could make themselves look passably similar or at the very least draw comment. They were not the most popular of girls and there was no gaggle of wannabes trotting after them down the corridors or circling them on the school field, flicking their hair and hanging on their every word, but that didn’t matter because they were the most perfect gang of two. Together they were glorious! That said, it didn’t mean Bessie wanted to look anything other than her best, should Melanie Hall or any of her cronies cast a look in her direction. After completing the other eye, she used the tip of her finger to dab a thick coat of concealer over Mount Etna’s little sister, which had taken root on her chin.

Her bedroom door opened suddenly.

‘Your dad let me in!’

Bessie’s face broke into a smile at the sight of Michelle. She leapt up and threw her arms around her friend’s neck as if it had been nineteen weeks and not nineteen hours since she had seen her last. The two settled back on the single bed with their backs against the wall.

‘Ta dah! Happy birthday!’ Michelle pulled two white disposable razors from the back pocket of her jeans.

‘Thank you! I’ve got the Maltesers!’ Bessie grabbed the box from her bedside table and shook it to make a pleasing rattle. Quickly she tore off the lid and the two scooped handfuls of malty chocolate into their fingers, before stuffing them into their mouths, laughing as they crunched and swallowed the sticky, sweet, melting treat. Michelle handed her a razor.

‘How d’you do it, exactly?’ Bessie asked through her mouthful, running her thumb over the hard plastic shield that sat over the double blade.

‘I’ve seen my dad shave a million times – you just put the foam on and drag this up and down. How hard can it be? He even whistles while he does it!’