If I go straight back I’ll be home at ten to four. That will give me an hour and a half to sit on the bed being scared before Dad comes back, and then there’ll be another hour and a half of him trying to jolly me along.

Nope. Unbearable.

‘Nah,’ I say, and I struggle to find something else I can do. ‘I’m heading into town. Got to get a present for Enzo’s family.’

‘I’m going home because I haven’t started packing.’

‘See you later.’

‘Joe?’ he says.

‘Yeah?’

‘You haven’t seen my trophy, have you?’

‘Seen your …?’

‘The house-football prize.’

‘No,’ I say before I can stop myself. ‘Of course not.’

‘Cool. Not sure where it’s gone.’

He pats my back and walks off, leaving me guilty and confused. Why did I take it? And why did I just lie? I’m so strung out I can barely breathe. I can’t go home. I want to keep moving. I should be hungry, but I’m not. I could get a Coke at Beachview, and hope the caffeine sharpens me up because, in spite of what I said to Mrs Dupont, I have not, in fact, had any caffeine today.

It’s stopped raining and feels warm for March. I want to take my coat off, but then I’d have to carry it, so I don’t. The pavements are shiny with rain. I add a swagger to my step and iron the weirdness from my face. Everything is normal. Everything is fine.

The Beachview Mall does not have a view of the beach: you might see the sea if you stood on the roof of the upstairs pub. It is secretly, however, one of my favourite places. It’s all contained. This is a small, knowable universe where you can buy stuff. The shops are exactly as you’d expect them to be: there’s a branch of every low-level high-street shop in there. There’s Smith’s, a tiny but handy H&M, a health-food shop. And so on. It is boring but nice. My favourite thing, though, is a secret room I found a while ago. You just go round a couple of corners behind Boots, and push a door and it opens. Then you’re in a tiny room with a row of pegs and a bench in it, and no one else is ever there.

I go to a stall to buy a can of Coke and, as I turn round, I walk right into a man. He’s tall and thin and I had no idea he was behind me.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’ I step out of the way.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ he says, moving sideways to block my path.

‘Excuse me,’ I say. The anger flows all the way through me. I’m a volcano. ‘It was an accident. I didn’t know you were standing behind me, did I?’