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He turned to me. ‘Some gaff you have!’

I felt my jaw ache from clenching it so tight. ‘That’s enough. Jamie, stop!’ I moaned as his eyes fixated on the screen.

He laughed, looking both impressed and horrified, then switched the video off. ‘You are a completely different person!’

‘Everything’s a fucking mess,’ I said, quieter. ‘I’m basically in hiding. I’ve got three safe locations: the community centre, that dodgy pub and this room. That’s it. I can’t risk going anywhere else.’

He studied me for a second. Really studied me. ‘I think you need to get out,’ he said.

I let out a dry laugh. ‘Aye, brilliant idea. I’ll just pop down the shops and get mobbed.’

‘No,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘I mean properly out.’ His knee pressed more firmly against mine, then he stood up suddenly, like he needed the movement. ‘No one knows what you actually look like here,’ he said. ‘Not with your mum’s clobber on, and your hair’s different.’

I shook my head. ‘I can’t—’

‘You can,’ he cut in, turning back to me. He was closer again. ‘Let me take you somewhere,’ he said. ‘Somewhere normal. Somewhere you’re not . . .’ he gestured vaguely, ‘that weird Stepford wife version of you.’ His eyes flicked over my face. ‘Just you.’

I gulped, intrigued despite myself. ‘Where though?’

He grinned – the cheekiness snapping back on like a switch had been flicked. ‘Ah, you’ll like it. Bit of chaos. Bit of fun.’

Of course.

‘Here,’ he said, grabbing a pair of knock-off Ray-Bans from my desk. ‘Disguise number one.’ He stepped closer. Again. ‘Hold still,’ he said.

I did. Because apparently I’d lost all motor function. He lifted the sunglasses and slid them onto my face, his fingers brushing my temple – lightly but deliberate enough that my breath caught.

‘There,’ he said, still looking at me. ‘Perfect.’

I huffed and poked my head towards the small mirror on my desk. ‘I look like I’m about to sell cheap plastic handbags in Tenerife.’

He laughed. ‘Aye, but no one’s recognising you, are they?’

‘Debatable.’ I shrugged, popping off the glasses and setting them back down on my desk.

He seemed excited, bouncing on his toes with ideas. ‘We can get you a scarf. Hat. Maybe a balaclava. Full incognito.’

‘This is insane,’ I said.

‘It’s class,’ he corrected, pointing his finger in my face.

I hesitated. My body, still dressed in my onesie, wanted to stay safe; my instincts were urging me to stay hidden. It would be sensible to continue my hermit mode until I had a plan.

‘I kind of want to go,’ I heard myself admit.

His smile softened. ‘I thought you might.’

‘But what about the community centre?’ I asked, needing something practical to think about before I did something stupid like stare at his mouth again.

‘My mum will run it,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘She’s been dying to boss every cunt about in that kitchen anyway.’

I stood up, aware of how close we were. Face to face.

‘Do you seriously think I’ll get away with this?’ I asked, nerves churning.

He didn’t step back. ‘Fuck aye,’ he said, grinning. ‘They’re expecting you to be in London, to sound like that.’ He pointed to his phone. ‘But you’re no like that, Harri.’

I paused.