When I wake up, it is bright outside the window, the sun more cheerful than I feel. My chest feels like it is trapped beneath something heavy and my head is pounding in sympathy.

Tracey is still asleep, her face turned towards me, peaceful. I have a sudden thought that she is not breathing, so I stick my finger under her nose, relief flooding through me at the wisps of air against the tiny hairs on my knuckles. I lie, watching her, my eyes running over her face, her bottom lip thicker than her top lip, the way her nose slopes up at the very end and the bushy eyebrows that need to be shaped before they meet in the middle. I want to drink her in. This could be the last day we are friends because I know I have to tell her about the pills, the rumours, the photos. She won’t want to have anything to do with me after today and I don’t blame her.

I already know I will never speak to Eloise again or any of them. Brian, Jason, Steph, Emily – none of them took a stand. They all joined in, laughing, mocking, assaulting her.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. They deserve to pay for what they did.

I turn to stare out of the small gap where the curtains have parted, the sunlight muscling its way into the room.

I feel Tracey move and I look over. She is lying with her eyes open, blinking. Those eyes, so beautiful, are dulled with tiredness.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Not great. You?”

“Same.” I don’t know what else to say, how to go about telling her. “I’ll go get us some tea.”

Martha is already up, bustling about in the kitchen as always. “Oh, you don’t look too clever,” she says as I shuffle in.

“I don’t feel too clever.”

“Tea?”

“Please. I’ll take it upstairs if that’s ok.”

She fills the kettle, her back to me. “They made quite a mess of the pool house. I’ll have to ask Arthur to come and sort it out, clean up.”

I feel shame clinging to me. “I’m sorry. Things got out of hand.”

“Well, these things happen sometimes. At least you had the good sense to call me before anything too bad happened. That was very responsible of you.”

No, it wasn’t. But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her what actually happened.

I take the tea back upstairs, some of it spilling over the edge and scalding my shaking hands, dripping on the floor and leaving a trail behind me.

Tracey has opened the curtains fully now and is sitting up in the bed, pillows propped behind her, looking out at the water. I pass her the tea and climb back in the other side.