They are speaking in careful, nonthreatening tones. He wants to tell them to fuck off. He wants to tell them he can see through them. He doesn’t know what they want, but he knows they want something.

‘Since year nine,’ he says. ‘I had him for English, and then for Media.’

Mrs Halliday is typing on her laptop.

‘And you say he’s a good teacher?’

Dillon nods.

‘So he helps you?’

Dillon nods.

‘And you enjoy his lessons?’

Dillon nods. Mrs Halliday types.

‘Do you ever see him outside of school?’

‘What do you mean?’

Mrs Halliday gives a short, quick smile. ‘Do you see him outside of school? Do you ever bump into him, or meet up?’

Dillon shakes his head no.

‘Sure?’ asks Mrs Halliday, head to one side.

‘I’ve maybe seen him at the shops?’ Dillon offers.

‘At the shops?’ says Mrs Halliday carefully.

Dillon nods. ‘I saw him at Asda once, I think.’

‘And so you’ve never met with him?’

Dillon shakes his head.

‘And has he ever touched you?’

Dillon stares.

‘Has he ever touched you, Dillon?’

Dillon looks to Mrs Jackson. Her face is riven by concern.

‘No,’ he says.

‘Dillon,’ says Mrs Jackson. ‘Has he ever given you a hug?’

The floor seems to lurch under him.

‘Yes,’ he says. He feels sick. ‘He put his arm round my shoulders.’ His voice is draining away. He has to pull it back. ‘I was upset.’ He wants to scream but worries he might faint. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he says.

Mrs Jackson leans forward.

‘Dillon, this is a complicated situation. The main thing you need to do is answer our questions honestly.’

‘I am,’ says Dillon. His throat is tight.

‘Dillon,’ says Mrs Halliday, ‘has Mr Bradman ever made you uncomfortable by the way he touches you?’

The knot of tears gathers at the back of Dillon’s throat. He doesn’t know how to hold himself. He can see what these two women believe.

‘It’s not what you think,’ he says. He knows what they’re hearing is different from what he’s saying. He tries again.

‘My mum died.’ The words are raw. ‘I was upset.’

Mrs Halliday has a different expression now, sad and warm. ‘What you need to understand, Dillon, is that sometimes these situations aren’t so clear cut when you’re in them. But there are standards of behaviour for teachers that they need to uphold.’ She frowns gently. ‘Mr Bradman is in loco parentis. That means he’s in the position of a parent, or a guardian.’

Dillon clenches his jaw. He knows what he wants to say, but the words he needs have vanished. He wants to say that Mr Bradman was exactly that – he gave him the time and the comfort his dad should have given. He wants to ask why it is Mr Bradman they are bothered about. He wants to ask if it’s all because of what Rose said.

‘Can I go now?’ he says.

Mrs Jackson’s eyes are not unkind.