John raised a half-eaten tin of mac and cheese with the lid clinging to the top. ‘I had this already …’

‘You put the metal tin in the microwave?’ Georgia said, concerned. ‘I’m surprised it didn’t blow up.’

‘Ate it cold,’ John said emotionlessly. ‘It’s crap either way …’

Georgia’s first instinct was to say yum or nutritious, or something else sarcastic. But her dad hitting rock bottom frightened her. Her worst nightmare was coming home and finding he’d done the same thing as Sophie …

‘So, the interviews were good,’ Georgia lied, in her most upbeat voice. ‘Wendy asked how you were doing.’

John laughed. ‘What did you say? Sat around smelling like armpits, spooning cold mac and cheese out of a can.’

Georgia’s lips tightened as she changed the subject. ‘Did you fill in the job application Uncle Phil gave you?’

John sounded sour. ‘I’m not working for Metro Powerlines with my little brother as my boss …’

‘It wouldn’t have to be forever,’ Georgia encouraged. ‘Earn some dosh, give yourself reason to get out of bed in the morning. You always complained about being the boss and having to keep everyone happy.’

John sighed. ‘The form doesn’t have to be in until the sixteenth. I’ll get there …’

‘I got cash at the Texaco. Do you need any?’

John shook his head. ‘Your school called.’

‘The automated, your son or daughter is absent?’ Georgia asked.

‘That one woke me up at half nine,’ John said. ‘Then an actual teacher called. Mr Woodinvag, or something …’

‘Dumervil,’ Georgia corrected, smirking.

‘He wants me to come in and discuss your unauthorised absences,’ John explained. ‘I told him I couldn’t fit him into my hectic schedule. Then he started lecturing me on the importance of your education and I suggested he go fornicate with a duck.’

‘He’ll be in a great mood when I get to school tomorrow,’ Georgia said, halfway between laughing and groaning.

‘What are you having to eat?’ John asked.

Georgia reared up, because this was code for what are you cooking me for dinner.

‘I had lunch with Wendy. I got a sandwich from the garage, and I’m going to have that before I go and meet the gang at Red Parrot.’

‘Oh …’ John said, wounded.

Georgia wanted to tell her dad to get off his arse and make his own dinner. She wanted to tell him to see a doctor and get antidepressants. Or talk through his problems with a therapist. But she’d said it all a hundred times before.

When Georgia told her dad something he didn’t want to hear, he’d accuse Georgia of turning into her nagging mother. The only thing worse was when he listened with a sad-little-boy face and looked tearful. It felt hopeless, so Georgia tried to stay out as much as possible.