It was a warm, clear night and the party had hours earlier spilled from the house and into the yard at the back of the row of terraces. The air felt electric that evening, alive with the excitement and relief of exam season closure. The last exam had taken place two days earlier, and Friday night’s party had gone on right through into Sunday, stopping only for people to catch a few hours’ sleep and restock on supplies before starting again. A dull thud of bass throbbed through the building like an irregular heartbeat, stifling the senses of those people who remained within the four walls of the house. Outside, drinking games were being played around a plastic garden table, its surface barely visible amid the array of bottles and glasses that adorned it. Joints were being passed between friends, bad jokes shared, sexual innuendo thrown into every conversation.

A train rattled past, noisy and fast: the 23.14 from Cardiff Central to Ystrad Rhondda, at this point midway through its hour-long journey; stopping just further up the track in Pontypridd. From the second floor of the terraced house in Treforest, from the bedroom at the back, the students who lived there often watched the trains go past – sometimes on sun-bleached afternoons, sometimes on nights like this, when the orange glow of the carriages would whizz past in a hazy blur of light. They could escape the noise of the world up on the ledge that jutted out over the first-floor bathroom. Up there, secrets had been shared and promises made. They were young – they knew those promises would likely be futile against the weight of time – but some had been made with good intentions.

Jamie Bateman was standing in the kitchen, watching through the window as an unfamiliar group of people laughed exaggeratedly over something that had just been said. He wondered if any of his housemates actually knew these people, or if they’d just heard evidence of a weekend-long party and gravitated towards the nearest available alcohol. Sidestepping the other people who lingered in the kitchen, Jamie moved to the back door. He could see Leah sitting on the stone wall at the end of the yard, her head resting against the side of the wooden shed in the corner. She was watching a drinking game unfold at the table, her face impassive as the people around her grew increasingly animated. Her long hair fell over the side of her face, managing to exaggerate her drunkenness.

He wondered where Tom and Keira had got to. The more he thought about them, the more he realised he didn’t want to know.

A girl fell into him as she passed, steadying herself with a grip on his elbow and a giggled apology. He studied her as she straightened: pale face, pink lips; eyes wide and slightly too far apart. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. He wondered what any of them saw. Women seemed to look through him as though he wasn’t really there. Everyone seemed to look at him that way. The girl’s apologetic expression quickly changed; she eyed him with curiosity now, wondering why his stare was so prolonged.

When Jamie glanced back out at the yard, Leah had looked up, her eyes now fixed on him. Her dark hair had been swept to one side and her legs were pulled up on to the wall, hugged to her chest as though protecting her. She looked away and turned her attention back to the table.

Jamie went back into the house.

---

Upstairs, in the back room of the second floor, Tom and Keira were sitting on the ledge outside her bedroom window. She was agitated, annoyed by his refusal to ever see things from anyone else’s point of view. The roof was usually a place for quiet and calm; that evening, it was the only place they could escape the prying eyes and ears of others.

‘How did you think people wouldn’t find out?’ she snapped.

Tom took a deep drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, losing the smoke to the summer evening breeze that was more noticeable up there than down in the yard below.

‘Jamie knows as well,’ she told him.

Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Jamie doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know what day of the week it is most of the time.’

Keira sighed, exasperated. ‘And get that out of my face.’ She gave his arm a shove, redirecting the clouds of smoke that trailed from his cigarette.

He turned sharply to her, alcohol fuelling his already short temper. ‘What is the matter with you tonight?’

‘Jesus.’ Keira turned to the window, swung her slim legs through the gap and went back inside the bedroom. ‘I just thought you were different, that’s all.’

‘Why?’ Tom followed her back into the bedroom, having to duck lower to get his tall frame through the open window.

‘What?’

‘Why would you think I’m any different? Different to what?’ It was said with a smirk that was intended to be noticed. It was intended to provoke a response.

God, he was annoying. She had thought for a while she was beginning to like him – he had grown on her during the past eighteen months, although in much the same way as the verruca she’d once needed to have removed – but when he was behaving like this, like his usual stubborn, ignorant self, she could feel nothing but contempt towards him.

‘I just thought you were a bit more intelligent, that’s all. Obviously I was wrong.’

‘Never got caught, have I?’

‘That’s luck, Tom, not cleverness. It’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out. Especially if people are starting to talk.’

He leaned against the wall and took a long drink from the bottle of beer he was holding. ‘I’m going home at the end of the week. It’ll all be forgotten. By September, people will have found someone else to gossip about.’

Keira sighed and sat on the bed. She pushed a length of dark hair from her face and studied him, standing there so casually as though everything was fine. In that moment, she thought she might hate him. She didn’t think she had ever hated anyone before, not really – it wasn’t in her nature to feel anger or bitterness towards other people. But Tom knew how to push people’s buttons.

And recent events had changed everything.

‘I don’t even understand why you’re doing it.’

He smirked again; the look infuriated Keira. ‘You wouldn’t. I mean, look around you, Keira.’ He raised the hand that held the bottle and moved his arm in an exaggerated semicircle in front of him. ‘Look at your life.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said defensively.

‘Of course you don’t,’ he scoffed, taking another mouthful of beer. ‘All this stuff … it’s so normal to you.’

It was the drink talking, Keira thought. She had seen Tom behave like a pig before, had seen him sarcastic and arrogant and full of himself. But she had never seen him cruel, not like this. Did he mean it? If he did, it hurt more than she might ever have anticipated it would.

‘Whatever you think about me, it doesn’t give you the right to do what you’ve been doing. Have you even bothered to think about the people this might affect?’

Tom’s expression changed, something dulling behind the pale grey of his eyes. ‘You’re so fucking sanctimonious, do you know that, Keira? It must be fucking perfect living in your little princess world.’

‘Oooh,’ she said, retaliating against his spite. ‘Big word there – well done.’

She recoiled on the bed as he threw the bottle he’d been holding against the wall. It smashed into tiny shards and stained the paintwork with an abstract shock of cheap lager. ‘That’s exactly the kind of patronising shit I’m talking about. You make everyone feel this fucking big.’ He moved towards her and waved his hand in her face to demonstrate his meaning.

For the first time, Keira felt afraid of him. She’d found out things about him she would never have thought possible. She didn’t want to be living with someone like this. What else was he capable of?

‘I’m fed up of always being made out to be the bad guy.’ The words were spat in her face, showering her with his anger. ‘You want to know what’s really going on … ask your little friend downstairs.’

Keira’s brow furrowed questioningly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He shook his head. ‘Open your eyes, Keira. Life isn’t one giant Disney movie. Oh … and everyone thinks the same as me, by the way. Spoilt little rich bitch.’

Tom stood back and stormed from the room. Keira got up from the bed and stared at the wall on which the thrown drink was already beginning to dry in trails that ran like thick teardrops. They were supposed to be coming back to this house after the summer holiday, returning in September for their final year. They’d got on well together, at the start.

Before they’d known each other, she thought.

She considered what he’d just said. Was that really what he thought of her? Was that what they all thought of her?

She went back to the window and pushed it wide open. Climbing back out, she sat on the ledge they had come to treat as a makeshift balcony and reached for the drink she’d left there. She glanced down at the narrow stretch of yard beneath her, hearing voices and laughter drift up towards her; feeling so much further than just two floors from the people scattered below. She didn’t belong here any more.

There were things she wished she didn’t know; things she wished she’d never been made aware of. She had already signed a contract for the following year’s rental agreement, but there must be some way of getting out of it. She couldn’t come back here now, not with things as complicated as they were.

She felt tears catch at the corners of her eyes. She thought of her mum and dad. She thought of her sister. She wanted to go home.

The bedroom door sounded behind her and Keira sighed, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes in an attempt to conceal her tears. She didn’t want a repeat performance of the argument they’d already had. Tom had said everything there was to say; she didn’t need to hear any more. She felt so upset, she didn’t even want to look at him.

She wondered again whether what he’d said was true, if that was how other people perceived her. She was lucky, she knew that, but she’d never tried to rub anyone’s face in her good fortune. If she had, she’d never meant to. She’d never tried to belittle anyone; she had thought they were her friends. If she really did make people feel that way, she’d never been aware she was doing it.

She felt him behind her, then everything happened so quickly. A hand touched her back for the briefest of moments before a firm shove sent her flailing from the ledge. She tried to break her fall, twisting desperately through the air, but there was nothing to catch hold of, nothing with which she could stop herself.

A single scream cut through the night air.