‘I guess so.’ She shrugged; Philip knew about these things. He wasn’t the one who had failed his exams. ‘I might have one or two,’ she conceded.

His face lit up, as if delighted that she was on board.

‘And this, as promised.’

From under his shirt he pulled out the old green-and-blue-checked thermos that their mum filled with tea for long journeys and picnics. Or more specifically, picnic, as they had only ever been on one and that had ended in disaster, with the car stuck in sand and a blazing row between her parents over whose job it was to take notice of ‘DANGER DO NOT PARK’ signs, followed by a two-hour wait for the vehicle recovery man in the rain. No wonder they had needed a thermos of hot tea.

‘I tipped half the bottle in. It’s not too bad – I had a swig. Try it!’

Philip watched as she unscrewed the top and tentatively brought it to her mouth, the fumes of the sweet liquor dancing up her nose before she had even taken a sip. It tasted warm and sharp, zingy and fruity, like wine but stronger, and yes, her brother was right – not too bad at all.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Thanks, Philip,’ she smiled at him.

‘That’s okay. I know you’ve had a rubbish birthday, but it’s not over yet, eh?’

‘No, it’s not!’ She beamed with the thrill of what the evening ahead might hold. First, she had to tell Michelle about Lawrence, but then she would get to be with Lawrence.

It was nice to be conspiring with her brother and not arguing or competing with him.

Bessie wielded her blusher brush as Yazoo sang to her from Upstairs at Eric’s, and even though she hummed along, her stomach flipped with nerves at the prospect of walking into the party alone. The thought of it was enough to make her puff her cheeks out and exhale sharply like an athlete pre-event and to reach for another swig of booze.