Who could I speak to at this time of night? My mind ran through all the people I could ring, but I drew a blank. No one I knew understood the law, apart from the finer points of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, that is. Nobody would be able to explain this to me and anyway, I didn’t want my private business splashed all over town. People would be talking about my confrontation with Stacey Waters as it was. I didn’t need to add any fuel to that fire.

Then I thought of Clio. Clio had no legal training, I was aware of that, but rich people just knew stuff about the law, didn’t they? And even if she didn’t, Clio was a sensible person to talk to because I wouldn’t have to worry about overhearing my name being whispered in the playground the following week.

I rang her number.

Clio answered on the third ring. ‘Leah, hi!’ As usual, she sounded truly delighted to hear from me.

‘Listen,’ I replied, skipping all pleasantries. ‘Something really weird has happened. Have you got a minute?’

‘Of course. Nothing ever happens to me. You know that.’

I could hear her walking somewhere and then her voice became more echoey, as if she was in a larger room. I could picture her sitting in her raspberry-coloured lounge at the Hall.

‘Fire away,’ she said.

‘So, it’s a bit odd,’ I began, not quite knowing where to start. ‘I’ve had this letter from some solicitors, I think. It’s addressed to Mum and it says they want me to leave my house by the thirty-first of August, but that makes no sense because it’s my house and they can’t just kick me out of my own house and I don’t know what to do. The office is shut, and I can’t talk to anyone until tomorrow and I’m scared, Clio.’

My words came out in an order that barely made any sense to me, but Clio seemed to grasp the essence of what I was trying to say straight away.

‘It’s fine, Leah,’ she said calmly. ‘It’ll be a misunderstanding. We can sort it out, I’m sure. I’m not going to let him evict you so please don’t worry.’

Even though Clio was talking in platitudes she somehow made me feel less terrified. I’d been right to ring her. Rich people knew more about property and legal documents and that kind of thing. It went with the territory.

‘It’s my house,’ I said again, in case Clio hadn’t totally understood my meaning. ‘Mum left it to me. And it was hers to leave. Dad bought it for her when they got married. I can’t understand what the letter’s on about.’