The spa smelled like lavender, eucalyptus, and fresh linen, and Zadie Linwood had picked the place. Soft ambient music drifted from the speakers. You were in treatment room three, folding a stack of warm, fluffy white towels. It was your third day, and she was still holding her phone up at shoulder height when the door chime rang from the front desk, because the light in the lobby was good and she wanted the whole afternoon on camera.

Veda had booked the slot in her own name and was already talking at the girl behind the counter. A burst of female laughter went round the three of them, Zadie's the loudest.

The door to the treatment room swung open and the manager gestured you out.

You walked to the reception area in a fitted black polo and dark pants. You stopped dead.

Zadie took one look at you, broke into a wide, delighted grin, and turned to the others.

She clapped her hands together, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

She caught Ione's eye and held it a beat too long, then Veda's, because she liked boys and girls and had not once kept that to herself. Veda's jaw was still on the counter and Ione had gone quiet in the way that meant she had seen everything, and Zadie leaned back with the phone held up at an angle to catch all three of them — thrilled, already working out how far she could take this. Platinum hair loose over one shoulder, white pleated skirt, that grin. She did not lower her voice once.