‘She won’t sleep between now and Ash Wednesday when she finds out.’

William laughs. ‘Once I’d been accepted here she cried every time she looked at me for about a week.’

‘She’s like a fairy godmother,’ Martin says as they reach school.

‘Why?’ William sits down in the vestibule to change his footwear.

Martin stamps his foot into his shoe. ‘She’s beautiful, she’s strong. She’d do anything to make you happy.’

‘So would your mum, wouldn’t she?’

‘It’s different. You’re the only one. It’s all about you. There are so many of us, it’s never all about me.’

Martin has been soppy over William’s mum since he saw her running down King’s Parade with William on her back. Late from an afternoon’s exeat, William had said he couldn’t eat a Chelsea bun and hurry, so Evelyn told him to get on her back and eat the bun, while she hurried for both of them. Martin had seen it from across the road, where he was with his own mother. What he’d liked was not so much her running along with an eleven-year-old on her back, but that she could do both those things and laugh.

‘She can be annoying too, you know,’ William says, walking down the corridor to history. ‘I know for a fact she won’t want Uncle Robert and Howard to come to hear the “Miserere”.’ When Martin took a big solo last term, his parents, grandfather, two brothers and twin sisters had all come. Seeing so many of them there just for him had made William sad.

‘Surely she’ll want them to come for this?’

‘She’ll say something like, “Life is hard enough without having to sit on a pew with Robert and Howard on display.” What does she even mean? I hate it, Martin, hate it.’ William notices that Martin’s pale cheeks have gone a little pinker.

‘If your dad was still alive,’ Martin asks, ‘would Robert and Howard come to hear you?’

‘It depends who won the argument. Mum would have wanted Robert to come on his own and Dad would have said that wasn’t fair.’

‘Are you going to tell her you want them both to come?’ Martin leans into the classroom door.

‘Yes, in my next letter.’ William pulls at his tie as he and Martin enter. He’s much too hot and he has the feeling there’s something about to explode in his head.

‘She’s just trying to protect you,’ Martin says as they walk to the two empty desks at the back.

William finds the statement so odd and bewildering, he doesn’t reply.

The dry dollop of mashed potato thuds onto his plate. Usually he’s ravenous by morning break, let alone lunchtime, but he doesn’t feel hungry today.