Ray looks from the book to smile at William.

‘What?’ William says.

‘It comes so naturally to you.’

‘I’ve watched my uncle, so it makes sense, and anyway, I had this question last week.’

Ray stubs out his cigarette on a saucer next to his bed. ‘I know you think I’m useless. I probably am, but it gets on my nerves how smug you all are.’

‘Just write down this bit. I’ve got to go.’

Ray starts copying out the paragraph William has highlighted. ‘Drink your beer then.’ He points at the bottle on the floor. William knocks it back in five gulps.

Ray’s handwriting is thankfully fast and neat. It’s 6.50. They’ll be sitting down to eat in ten minutes and he thinks it will take him at least half an hour to get there.

‘What’s the problem?’ says Ray. ‘So you’ll miss tea. How old are you, ten? Stay here and we can have another beer, get fish and chips.’

‘Laugh at me all you like, but I want to sit down for a meal with a nice family and, if you must know, their daughter.’

Ray’s sly smile and knowing look make William regret what he’s just given away.

‘Now that I understand!’ He finishes his beer. ‘Bugger off then, I’ve got this now.’

‘Thanks,’ says William, feeling sheepish, getting up and putting on his jacket. ‘Make sure you include all of the arteries and veins that are relevant; you lose points for every one you miss.’ Ray doesn’t move to open the door or say goodbye. He just watches William with a smile that makes him uncomfortable.

‘Bye then,’ William says as he backs out of the door. Ray merely raises the empty beer bottle.

He runs full pelt back to the college and then to the Finches’, not trusting himself to navigate the route from Ray’s. It takes thirty-five minutes and by the time he bursts into their dining room, he’s out of breath, sweating and a little light-headed. Mr Finch is serving apple pie. All three of them turn in surprise. His sausage, mash and peas are on his plate, with a hint of white where the fat has congealed on the gravy.

‘I’m so sorry!’ he says, chest heaving. ‘I was helping someone with their homework.’ Unable to speak, he breathes heavily. ‘He lives further away than I thought.’ He unbuttons his coat. ‘I came as fast as I could.’

‘Well, you’re here now,’ Mrs Finch says, ‘eat up. It’ll be cold but I’d rather it not go to waste.’

‘Of course not.’ William dashes into the hall to hang his coat up. He pulls his sweater close to his face. It reeks of smoke. He takes it off and leaves it over his coat.