The three other probationers, including Charles, are huddled together in the corner this morning when he wakes. A tight knot of exclusion, they glance at him as he gets up from his skinny mattress for the first time. That hand holding was a big mistake.

Last night, curled up in a ball, wondering how he could possibly fall asleep without his mother nearby, William discovered that he could conjure her voice.

My job in life, William, is to love you like no one on earth, and I have to say, I think I’m doing a pretty good job … You’re special, the college choirmaster said so. You’ll be singing solos before you know it.

It was as if he could literally hear her speaking, feel her breath across his face, see the pretty ridges on her white teeth. Now though, watching the three boys leave the dorm together, Evelyn feels so far away, she may as well not exist.

He jumps as a set of soft, large fingers close around his arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get the dips over with, then I’ll take you to breakfast.’

‘Dips?’ says William, letting himself be led into the corridor by a tall, plump boy with short red hair that has a rigorous wiggle running through it. ‘What’s that?’

‘You’ll see,’ says the boy, releasing his grip. ‘You get used to it. You get used to everything eventually.’

‘How long have you been here?’ William runs a couple of steps to catch up.

‘Three years.’ The boy’s face is broad and flat with smudgy freckles and wide front teeth with a gap in between them. ‘I’m Martin Mussey.’ He strides ahead on sturdy legs. ‘I’ve got a good voice, awful attitude. I’ll never be head chorister, but I get plenty of solos.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Good manners cost nothing, Evelyn has taught him, but work magic. ‘I’m William Lavery. Thank you for inviting me.’

Martin laughs and stops until William is level with him again. ‘You might not thank me in a minute. But Matron’s not so bad.’

There’s a sharp-as-a-needle smell in the bathroom. Everything is pale blue or white. The bright light makes William squint. Following Martin’s lead, he takes off his pyjama top and drops it on the floor behind him. They stand adjacent to another boy at the bath and another joins them to William’s left. Martin is the only one with any spare flesh on him. He even has boobs.

The woman dressed like a nurse holding a large metal jug must be Matron. The muscles in her arm flex through the saggy flesh as she lifts the pitcher.

‘Down!’