I reach down and put my hand on my stomach, now full of cold lasagne. “You’re right, I need to try and lose it before Saturday if I can.”

“I can get you some – they’re my mother’s, but she doesn’t notice if I take them. She has loads of them, is always popping them back, especially before one of her dinner parties so that she can eat in front of people, but not show it the next day on the scales. It’s ingenious really. I’ll bring them to school today.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll see you in a bit then.”

I run into the bathroom and stick cold, accusatory fingers down my throat. Nothing happens at first, my body refusing to give up what I’ve invested in it, but then the lasagne, strawberries and cream surge from me, leaving me breathless and coughing. I wash my face, get dressed quickly and plait my hair to hide the mess it dried into after last night’s bath. While I’m in the bathroom, I see the pill bottles and scoop them into my school bag before hiding the vodka bottle in my bedside table in case Martha comes in.

She has tea and toast waiting for me, with a couple of digestive biscuits on the side of the plate. The pit of my stomach is gloriously empty, like there is a gaping chasm that wasn’t there yesterday morning. I take a few bites of the toast without tasting it, nibble on one of the biscuits, then rush out of the house down to the meet point for the school bus.

The school corridors are a cacophony of shouting, laughter, whistling, thumping feet, slapping hands. I stride straight over to my locker, not looking around me, shoving past the bodies in my way. I grab some of the books I’ll need and turn to go, bashing into the person behind me.

“Fuck, careful, Hels!” Eloise is rubbing her arm where I collided with her.

“Sorry, didn’t see you.”

“Whatever,” she sighs. “Look,” she looks around surreptitiously, “here’s those pills.” She hands me a white box.

“Great, thanks.” I open the packet, push out two small white tablets and put them straight into my mouth. “Got any water?”

“Sure.” She hands me her bottle and I swig at it, feel the pills slip down. “I meant to say, you’re only supposed to take one at a time after meals.”

I shrug.

Brian and some of his mates are striding along the corridor. Bodies part for them, like they are gods. They stop at a bank of lockers, shoving and grabbing at each other, head-locks and dead arm punches. Then Brian nods with his head and starts making low monkey noises. The others join in, the noises growing in volume, and I see Tracey walking along the corridor towards them, her cheeks flaming.