It was just the three of them this time, for the "SOS" meeting: Richard, Emma and Bryony.  Emma had printed out a poster, for the inspection of the others.  Judging by the results so far, even Rich couldn’t have made a worse job of it.  He had hoped that they would still use Charlotte’s design template – which was saved on Bry’s hard drive – for the publicity material but, when Bry had pointed out that they would need to ask Charlotte’s permission for Copyright reasons, Emma had gone balistic, and said that she would do "the stupid posters" herself. 

    "This is crap, Emma," remarked Bryony, which seemed a little too "direct" to Richard, even if it was the truth.  "I don’t like to say this but…"

   "If you don’t like to say it, Bryony, then don’t.  Just don’t, okay?"

   An awkward silence did nothing to improve the, already somewhat tense, atmosphere.

   "Bryony’s right, Emma," admitted Richard, at length.  "We need Charlotte.  None of us are as artistic or…"

   "Leave it, Rich," warned Emma.  "I’ve had enough, and I’m really going to lose it, if one more person has a go at me over this.  That slag tried to steal my boyfriend.  Do you honestly expect me just to carry on being her friend?  Should I make out that nothing happened?"

   "Surely we all need to stick together?" reasoned Richard.  "For the sake of the campaign, if nothing else." As if he cared about that, but it sounded like the thing to say.

   "He does have a point," said Bryony.  "At this rate, our protest march is going to the most insignificant 'protest' of all-time.  Me, you, Richard, Tracey, Donna, and Lauren – that’s it.  Six kids."

   "How about Luke and Boris?  You were supposed to be asking them, weren’t you, Rich?"  Emma’s eyes appealed to him, to give her the answer that she wanted to hear.

   "I did, Em.  They weren’t interested.  They’ve heard the rumours too, but they think it’s a good thing.  I couldn’t convince them that the other schools would be any worse than St. Andrew's."

   "Must be a difficult concept to grasp," remarked Bryony, with a wry half-smile.

   "John’s still willing to take part, by the way," said Richard.

   "Well, I’m not doing it, if he does,’ snapped Emma, getting to her feet.  "I’ve had enough of this for one night.  I’ll see you both tomorrow at school."  That said, she stormed out of Bryony’s bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the front door, which she duly slammed, with a vengeance.

   Richard was beginning to wonder if John’s little sisters, Jenna and Topaz – aged eight and six respectively – might not be better placed to organise this bloody demo.  The way in which Emma, Charlotte and John were, all three, behaving, made the most ridiculous and childish of squabbles between Jenna and Topaz, seem more like one of those political debates on Radio 4 by comparison.  

   "Shouldn’t you go after her, Bry?  That’s how you girls normally work, isn’t it?"

   Bryony shrugged.  "Maybe I’m sick of running around after Emma, every time she gets into a strop.  She reminds me of our Julie, at times."

   "How is Julie?"

   "Drunk, most of the time.  Going off the rails, as my sister does."

   "I’m sorry, Bryony.  Are you okay?"

   "I’ll live.  Anyway, listen, did you hear about Donna’s sister?  She’s only going out with that psycho in Year Ten.  Jamie Hudson – do you know him?  Hangs around with Tracey’s ex.  And you’ll never guess what Lauren…"

   Richard actually found himself enjoying Bryony’s inconsequential snippets of gossip.  He realised that hadn’t used to like Bryony much.

   "It’s not as if Emma doesn’t want to make up with Charlotte," said Bryony, following her brief detour.

   "Really?  She could have fooled me."

   "She’s upset.  Who wouldn’t be?  Charlotte did have sex with her boyfriend, Rich.  But Emma’s really missing her, though.  They’ve been best mates practically forever."

   "I know."

   "I mean, Emma came to Tracey’s with me, the other night - and, honestly, she was bored stiff, Richard.  It was really off-putting.  I was trying to practice my oboe, and Tracey needed to perfect a really tricky dance routine, in time for that talent show she’s supposed to be entering, like, next week.  And all Emma wanted to do was scoff Mrs. Dennis’s chocolate digestives, and go on about John Hill all night.  Oh no, I tell a lie.  She also talked about her Yorkshire Terrier, some track off the latest Britney album, and what she’s going to wear to her sister’s wedding."

   Rich nodded.  That was Emma, all right.  "Bry?  Listen, I just had an idea.  You don’t fancy helping me out, do you?"

   Bryony half sighed, half smiled.  "Something tells me that I’m going to regret this, but tell me, anyway."