‘Stop moving.’ Lisa tilted my chin, sponging foundation onto my skin but I couldn’t help twisting my head again. Couldn’t tear my eyes away from the TV. Eva Longoria was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. ‘I’ll switch it off if you can’t keep still.’

‘Don’t you dare. It’s nearly finished.’ I wanted to see the end of Desperate Housewives. I couldn’t watch it at home if my parents were around. Dad only liked educational programmes, but to me, this was far more relevant to the future I dreamed of. I had wanted to be an actress since I was small. I loved the school productions, the smell of face powder and lipstick, the sound of applause. It was almost like stepping into another skin, I supposed. A more confident skin, a chance to become someone else, and even then, I wanted to be someone I was not.

‘Do you think her hair is naturally wavy?’

‘God knows. Bet she’s got a team of stylists. Who looks like that in the mornings?’

Eva sashayed across the screen in a short silk robe, legs toned and tanned.

‘Who looks like that at any time?’

‘You’ll look better than that tonight, Kat. I’m going to give you smokey eyes.’

‘That sounds like a disease.’

‘Very funny.’ Lisa swirled a brush into eyeshadow. ‘I saw it on an online tutorial. You’d be amazed at what you can learn on that new YouTube.’

‘I’m not sure Dad would approve of me spending valuable revision time watching home-made videos.’ I had asked my parents for a make-up set for Christmas but instead had been handed an A4 brown envelope. Inside was an annual online subscription to Encyclopaedia Britannica. It made a change from the hardback versions that stood stiff and proud, spines uncreased, on my bookcase.

Later, in the kitchen, mum had slipped me a small tin of Vaseline and told me I could highlight my cheekbones, use it on my lips and eyelashes. I had clutched the tin of possibilities tightly in my hand like the secret it was, as Dad’s heavy footfall grew nearer and Mum turned her attention back to peeling sprouts.

‘Does your dad ever approve of anything?’ Lisa asked but it was a rhetorical question.

Dad thought I should spend every waking second studying. Every morning when I stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen and pulled cornflakes from the cupboard I couldn’t help seeing the university brochure Dad had left on top of the microwave. My offer letter pinned to the corkboard above the fridge. As I splashed cold milk over my cereal, my stomach would churn. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to go to university. I had been doing some research of my own and there were some fabulous courses offering degrees in Performing Arts, but to appease Dad I’d applied for English and History. Dad always wanted to be a teacher. ‘It’s a good, solid career, Katherine,’ he said, but he had dropped out of uni. He called himself a ‘financial advisor’ when he was trying to impress people, but when it was just me and Mum he complained he was nothing but a ‘glorified salesman’. But just because he wasn’t clever enough to finish his course, it shouldn’t mean I was forced to follow his dreams. I had my own.

Lisa checked her watch. ‘If we’re ready in fifteen minutes, Mum said she’d give us a lift on her way to bingo. Dad’s working late again so she’s making the most of it.’ Lisa’s mum, Nancy, was lovely.

‘She’ll pick us up after, too, and as you’re staying here tonight, we won’t have to leave at some ridiculous time for your curfew. Almost done.’ Lisa swept bronzer over my cheeks.

‘I nearly wasn’t allowed to stay over. There was a problem when I told dad we were revising together.’

‘What?’

‘He knows you too well.’

‘You’re hilarious.’ Lisa stepped back and studied me. ‘And I’m a genius. Take a look.’

My reflection was stunning. Unbidden my fingers fluttered to my face as if checking it was really me.

‘I look—’

‘Oh God, don’t start singing ‘I Feel Pretty’ again. I’ve heard it so many times I swear I could be your understudy.’

I was constantly practising for Maria in the sixth form production of West Side Story.

‘I was going to say, I look like my mum.’ I must take after her more than I had thought. I had never noticed a resemblance before but I had seen a photo once of her on stage when she was about my age. She looked so alive. When I had asked her if she ever wanted to be an actress instead of a secretary, she had said it was a one-off, but there had been a wistful look in her eyes. I had hoped that would be the moment she would open up, but she hadn’t, and she remained a stranger to me. This woman who gave me life but came home exhausted, her trouser suit and faded dreams hanging from her tiny frame. Occasionally there were flashes of kindness, like when she gave me the Vaseline, but mostly we felt like three entities under one roof, not like a family at all.

‘Don’t get all mushy.’ Lisa eased open her drawer. ‘You might have crap parents but you know I love you.’ She handed me a bottle of perfume.

‘Lisa!’ I’d coveted Sarah Jessica Parker’s ‘Lovely’ fragrance for ages. I sprayed it onto my pulse points; rosewood and lavender danced around my nostrils. ‘What do you think?’ I held up my wrist.

‘It’ll do until Eva Longoria gets her arse into gear and brings one out. Let’s get dressed.’ Lisa shrugged off her dressing gown and slipped into a turquoise dress that sparkled like the sea. ‘Fuck.’ She tugged the zip. ‘I’m getting so fat.’

‘You’re not,’ I said, but actually she was, a bit.

‘God. I’ll never pull tonight.’ She turned sideward in the mirror and sucked in her stomach. ‘It’s no wonder I can’t get a boyfriend.’

‘I thought there wasn’t anybody you liked?’

‘There isn’t,’ she said a little too quickly but there was a flush coating her chest.

‘There is! Who?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going to look awful.’ She yanked off her dress, close to tears. ‘Nothing fits me any more.’

‘Wear the stretchy black one. It looks better anyway.’

‘It’s boring and it will cling to my belly.’

‘You can wear my necklace to bling it up and draw the attention to your amazing cleavage instead.’ I took off my thick silver chain with the diamanté heart and looped it over her neck.

‘Are you sure?’ Her mood instantly brightened. ‘It’s your favourite.’

‘What’s mine is yours,’ I said.

‘Really? I’ll remember that,’ Lisa said, and in that moment neither of us could envisage a time we wouldn’t want to share.

How things changed.

Perry’s enormous lounge was a throng of hot, swaying bodies; cheap perfume and aftershave. On the shelf above the TV, cat ornaments rattled as the bass pulsed from oversized speakers. Red and green flashing lights lit discarded paper plates heaped with crumbling sausage rolls and drying sandwich crusts. The ‘Happy 18^th’ banner had become unstuck at one end, and Perry wrenched it down before wrapping it around himself like a cape.

I squeezed my way into the hallway looking for Lisa. She’d gone to the loo ages ago but the queue was still snaking down the stairs. Instead of waiting I headed through the kitchen and out of the open patio doors, into the garden. Multicoloured lanterns glowed; they were strung from the fence, hanging from the washing line. Even outside the music was still pounding.

Sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the bench seat, were Aaron and Jake. I had to gulp my vodka – liquid courage – before I could join them. I saw them at school every day but this felt different somehow, with my short dress, heels sinking into the lawn. The wood creaked as I sat next to them.

‘Hey, Kat.’ Aaron offered me the spliff he held between thumb and index finger, and when I shook my head he shrugged and placed it between his lips. For someone who was intent on being a doctor Aaron didn’t take his own health very seriously. As he took a drag the end crackled red before he exhaled, and the warm night air was heavy with cannabis and tobacco.

‘Aaron!’ Perry swayed in front of us, clutching a beer, still wrapped in the banner. ‘It’s my birthday. Got me a pressie?’

Aaron jumped off the table, and it wobbled with the sudden shift in weight. I stretched out my arms to steady myself, my left hand resting on Jake’s knee. Aaron supported Perry as he led him back inside.

‘Think we should help?’ I asked reluctantly. I didn’t know Aaron very well. We didn’t share any lessons.

‘Nah,’ said Jake. ‘I like it here.’

He turned to face me, and I realised my palm was still pressing against his knee. Underneath the denim was heat. I started to draw away, but he placed his hand on top of mine. Our fingers linked together, and my mouth went dry. It was crazy. I’d known him forever. He was like a brother almost, but since he’d been cast as Tony in the end of year production of West Side Story, to my Maria, something between us had shifted. There was a confidence about him both on stage and off that made my pulse flutter. He didn’t dress like the other boys, in his white T-shirt and skinny jeans, black pork-pie hat, the gold cross he always wore.

At rehearsals yesterday he’d cupped my face between his palms as we sang ‘Somewhere’, and when he took his hands away I felt like he had taken a piece of me with him too.

‘Dance with me, Kat.’ He pulled me to my feet and alone, under the endless indigo sky, it felt like we were the only two people left in the world. As my body gyrated with the beat of Paul Weller’s ‘It’s Written in the Stars’ Jake didn’t once let go of my hand, and instead he pulled me closer. His lips brushed my ear, and I melted like butter as he whispered: ‘you and me Kat, we’re written in the stars’. As he pulled back, I studied his face to see if he was joking, this boy I had known most of my life, but his eyes were full of longing.

‘This,’ he whispered, ‘is what I wanted to do at rehearsals yesterday.’ His mouth skimmed mine, lips warm and smooth. I began to close my eyes. The last thing I saw was the utter disbelief and hurt on Lisa’s face as she stood framed in the patio doors. Perhaps I should have pushed Jake away but as his kiss grew more urgent, I knew I was lost.

Rightly or wrongly I didn’t let Lisa’s reaction stop me slipping my hand into Jake’s back pocket, pressing my body hard against his. I wanted him and, at that time, it seemed so simple.

If only I knew then the lengths that Lisa and I would both go to, to get what we wanted. The hurt we would cause.

The lives that would be lost.

If I’d know that then, I like to think I’d have pushed Jake away because, otherwise, what sort of person did that make me?

And I’m not a monster.

I’m not.