‘I’ve given Alan and Vince – and Brandon I suppose – a stay of execution this week. Turning over a new leaf and all. I expect they’re off causing havoc somewhere, no doubt earning their spot on these hallowed stools for the rest of the year.’

‘Oh…’ I don’t think I can last an hour here on my own.

‘There’s no reason for you to stick around either, I suppose.’

Perhaps I swing my bag onto my back too quickly, perhaps it’s the relief on my face, or maybe it’s because my eyes dart straight to the door like something hunted. Whatever it is, Mr Walters sits up in his seat and puts his newspaper to one side.

‘But as you are here.’

His chair, as he stands up, rolls backwards into the wall and knocks three marker pens from their tray under the board.

‘Maybe we could have a little talk.’

He comes around the front of the desk, perches on the front of it. His fingers wrap around the edge of the desk like talons.

‘Have a seat, Josh.’

He indicates the stool in front of him. I sit down.

‘I’ve… I’ve spoken to your mum. She’s told me what you’ve been dealing with. The websites, the rhetoric. Your dad would be—’

‘Don’t.’ My voice is louder than it should be. But this time I don’t care.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Don’t bring him into this.’ Remembering where I am, I add a ‘Please’.

I feel his stare on the top of my head as I stare into my lap, unable to meet his eye.

‘OK. That’s fine. I’m sorry. I wish you’d have talked to someone before you started looking at all these things. They’re dangerous, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘I’d like to think, perhaps, that I’m not completely distant from you, Josh.’

I pull at my bandaged thumb until it starts to really hurt, the wound opening up a little.

‘I’m here if you need me, OK?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

‘I’m here to stop you from breaking. If there’s anything…’ He squats down, his face across the bench just inches from my own. Coffee and stale cigarettes, cheap aftershave. ‘Anything at all. We all need comfort, sometimes. Someone we can count on.’

His voice is little more than a whisper, now.

‘I know you’ve missed that, Josh. Being able to rely on someone. But I’m here.’ There’s a long pause before he changes tack, ‘How was Christmas? Get what you wanted?’

‘No. Can I go now,’ I do look at him then, hard and steady and direct. ‘Sir?’

He stands up, taken aback. Shocked, even. ‘Yes, Josh. You can go. But you know what to do if you need anything.’

The stool clatters to the floor as I grab my stuff and bolt for the door.

Yes, I know what I have to do.

FIFTY-SIX