Sarah started having strange fits. Every couple of weeks, she’d explode over nothing and lay into me, fists and all. I went to my psychology tutor. ‘My girlfriend’s going crazy,’ I said. She just looked at me and asked if I was doing drugs. Shit, she called it. ‘Your pupils are dilated.’

I spoke to Micky about it when we were sitting at the kitchen table one lecture-free afternoon. Micky didn’t know anything. ‘You should try and talk to her,’ he said. ‘It’s a cry for help.’ He was rolling a joint. He kept wetting his bottom lip with his tongue.