I turn and say goodnight, and Emma flicks a glance over her shoulder. It’s a split-second look, but I know what she’s thinking. However, I’m stuffed with pizza and I’ve had way more wine than I should have. She raises her eyebrows slightly, and I give a slight shake of my head. I like Emma – she doesn’t take life too seriously. She’s got a body to die for and she’s bloody hot in bed. And she knows what she wants. But the thing is, if I fuck this up I’ll be out of a house, and that matters more than anything else.

I head out to put the boxes in the recycling and the howl of foxes somewhere nearby makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

When I go upstairs, the bathroom door’s open, but the light’s still on, so I push it open carefully. Jess is standing there, hair knotted off her face in a bun, carefully putting toothpaste on her toothbrush.

‘Oh sorry, I’ll come back in a sec,’ I say.

Jess shakes her head. ‘It’s fine, I’m just brushing my teeth.’

She hands me the toothpaste and I pick up my brush, and somehow we’re standing there side by side – me in my trackies and T-shirt, her in a pair of mismatched PJs – brushing our teeth. She waggles her eyebrows at me in the mirror, making me laugh, which is harder than you’d think when you’ve got a toothbrush in your mouth.

‘Night then,’ I say, once we’ve finished, and she’s heading out to her bedroom. I contemplate a shower before bed, but decide I’ll have one in the morning. I lie under the covers, thinking that I’ve made the right move in not sleeping with Emma tonight. I find myself wondering about Jess lying in the room next to mine, hoping she’s not too freaked out by the ghost stories to sleep. I close my eyes and, exhausted after the impossibly long day I’ve had, I’m gone.

Chapter Eleven: Jess

Chapter Eleven

Jess

12th March

‘Welcome to my new house.’

Gen’s standing on her bed. She reaches up and pushes the glitter ball that hangs from the ceiling so it twirls, casting squares of light that bounce and reflect off the walls, the furniture and us.

Gen’s always lived in, well, unusual places. She spent a summer after university living in a silent meditation retreat in Bali, sleeping in a hut and sweeping bugs off the floor before bed every night. The concept of the irrepressible Gen, the human embodiment of a can of Coke that’s been shaken up then opened, keeping her mouth shut for a week at a time was pretty much unthinkable to me. But she said afterwards that she’d loved it, and that it had really helped her acting. That made sense. She’s so dedicated to acting that she’d do pretty much anything if she thought it would make a difference – including, it would seem, saving money by sleeping in assorted battered-looking disused buildings to save money for more classes. Her large residence had been a mansion house – huge, grand and with a sweeping staircase that belonged on a movie set – that was waiting for redevelopment.