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Jenna’s lips quivered and stretched. As she pulled herself up, her eyelids dragged themselves open and dropped shut over and over again. ‘Wha?’

‘Oh my God, Jenna.’ Rose dropped down and hugged her. ‘You stupid, stupid, stupid – I love you.’

‘She didn’t get the artery,’ Lydia said. ‘She probably just fainted.’

Relief picked me up and I felt like I was flying high above Trevethan House then zooming back in through the open window. ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, over and over. I felt sick.

Everything was out of control. Jenna was hurt and I needed to start thinking properly. ‘We have to call an ambulance. And your mother,’ I said.

Rose fell back as Jenna pushed her, shaking her head.

‘You need an ambulance,’ I said.

‘No,’ said Jenna.

Lydia knelt and put her arms round both girls. ‘You might want some stiches,’ Lydia said.

‘Can’t you do it?’ asked Jenna.

Lydia pulled back and made a disapproving face.

‘Oh my God,’ said Rose, still crying. She hit Jenna in the chest. ‘How could you do it? How could you do this?’

‘Jenna, I’m calling an ambulance and your mum, right now.’ I patted my pocket but realised I’d left my phone in the car. How would I explain her being here, in this house?

‘No,’ said Jenna.

‘Everyone is looking for you. Your mum is terrified.’

‘Good,’ said Jenna, and then she started crying and reached for Rose.

‘Lydia, we have to call them. Do you have your phone?’

Lydia leant against the bathroom counter. ‘Look at this mess,’ she said.

I looked around, nodding at the glass, the blood, the dry leaves and empty crisp packets and dirty towels. I had been meaning to come and clean up, but I had found it hard coming in here.

I looked down at Rose hugging Jenna and I couldn’t help myself, I had to kneel down and hug her too, tears dripping from my nose like I hadn’t had the chance to stop this and I deserved to share in this moment.

‘Why did you do it, Jenna?’ asked Lydia.

Jenna shook her head. Her cheeks were smeared with Rose’s mascara. The two girls looked at each other, pain jumping between them, and I realised they were together: Rose, the star of our athletics team, and Jenna, our silent music obsessive.

‘Everything is so messed up,’ Jenna said.

Lydia shook her head. ‘Your family, Jenna. Your—’ her lips bunched up as she attempted not to swear ‘—family.’

Jenna looked down at her wrist, which Lydia had covered with gauze and taped and taped and taped. ‘They’re just going to tell me off,’ she said. ‘If they even notice I’m hurt. If they even notice I’m gone.’

‘They’ve noticed,’ I said. ‘Your mother came to the school – she’s scared. They’re searching for you. They haven’t called the police yet but they will soon.’

‘But what – I just go back home with a bit of a scratch and then…? My grandfather will tell me I’ve been selfish and stupid, and my mother will just fall in line, and by tomorrow the whole thing will be forgotten – no one will talk about it or ask me why. Nothing will change.’

I stroked Jenna’s hair. ‘You need to go to hospital.’

Lydia nodded. ‘It would be better, but she’s right. I could put in a few stitches?—’

‘Frances is looking for her. The school – we need to call them.’

‘Tell me, Georgia, whose fault is all of this?’ she asked, gesturing at Jenna. She leant down and shoved her finger in a smear of blood.

Did she mean it was my fault?

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘I just…’ Her nostrils flared, her eyes widened, and then she sighed. ‘Frances deserves this, don’t you think? They all deserve this.’

‘Deserve what?’

‘To see what they do to people. To understand what they’ve done to Jenna.’

I looked at my hands, dirty with brown crumbs of dried blood. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re kidding me, right? You, of all people, know how much they deserve this.’

I nodded, but then I shook my head.

Getting revenge on the Beaufort-Bradleys had consumed me for my entire adult life. But in one universe they framed my mother for rape and caused her suicide. In another universe, one I never let myself admit exists, they are the victims of my mother’s attack on Tristan.

I could never say, hand on heart, that they deserve this.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Lydia. She looked disgusted, her lips snarled up, and suddenly I was taken back to the day I saw her in Morrisons parking lot, when I went to see Frances finishing the end of her shift – there was something so perfect about watching a Beaufort-Bradley in a green polo asking if customers wanted help packing.

I had come out of the supermarket as Frances had left her checkout, and I’d stepped quickly behind an SUV as I saw Lydia standing by Frances’s little Mini, with that same expression. She had drawn a key out of her pocket, dug it hard into the side of Frances’s car and dragged it all the way along that dark green paint.

But now Lydia’s mouth relaxed and her eyebrows creased. ‘Oh God, Georgia.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she threw her arms around me. ‘You don’t know. You really don’t, do you?’

I shook my head, stiffening. I couldn’t remember when I had last been hugged by another woman.

‘All these years and you thought that your mother had actually…’

I didn’t know what she was saying but I could feel the edges of it. Her warmth around me had me crumbling again and I leant into her and closed my eyes.

‘Mum, what are you talking about?’ said Rose. Both she and Jenna were looking at us like we were from another planet, and I remembered they didn’t know we knew each other.

‘The tape,’ said Lydia.

‘What about it?’ said Rose, jutting her chin like she was making no apologies at this time, thank you.

‘This… Miss Smith… Georgia Smith. She’s the friend I told you about.’

Rose’s eyes, as big as her mother’s, went wide. ‘She’s that woman’s daughter? Why didn’t you say she was Miss Smith?’

Rose and Jenna looked at each other.

‘What woman?’ asked Jenna. ‘The woman on the tape?’

And my heart went as still as a rock reaching the bottom of the ocean.

What tape?