‘And this thing at work,’ Mum continues. ‘This woman. She was lovely. Pleasant as could be. Polite, smiling, really friendly, asking about you and school. She’s got a son your age who’s just started there. Ahmed, he’s called. Do you know him?’

I go tense. ‘I think so, yeah. Seen him around.’

‘She’s into yoga, and cooking, and walking. We really have so much in common. And she’s just so keen you know? So eager to do well. She reminds me of … well, of me about five years ago when I started there. And what she must have been through… But I just couldn’t give her anything back. I was completely numb today, like most Mondays. And I know she’ll take some of my stuff, which will make things easier. But I couldn’t shift this idea…’

‘What idea?’

‘This notion, that…’

‘That what, Mum?’

Mum pauses for a moment, her fork halfway to her mouth. ‘That she could easily replace me. That she’ll take all my work and be so much more capable than me that the firm can finally offload me. Which they’ve wanted to do for ages. Ever since…’

For a while, we eat in silence.

‘Mum?’

‘Hmmm?’

‘If they got rid of you, we could sue them, right? For discrimination?’

‘It wouldn’t be discrimination, Josh. And it’s not going to happen. It’s just me being daft.’

‘But it does happen, you know.’

‘What are you talking about, Josh?’

‘… well, people are losing out to them all over the place at the moment. Jobs, housing, healthcare. People who are from here, people who deserve better are being put to the back of the queue and told to shut up while they, people who don’t belong here, people who don’t deserve it, all go first.’

Mum puts her fork down. ‘Josh, you’re confusing me. What are you talking about? Them? I’ve had a long day and feel wretched, so less cryptic would be good, please.’

‘Immigrants. This woman, Ahmed’s mum, she—’

‘So you do know Ahmed?’

‘Yeah, a bit, but his mum’s taking your job, and they’ve taken a house on the estate near Jamie’s that probably should have been given to someone else as well. And they’re taking over, slowly, getting their foot in the door so they can turn this into the country they want, and then none of it will be ours anymore.’ Even as I speak them, the words don’t sound entirely like my own. This is anger talking, the white heat creeping out. ‘So what I’m saying is, it’s discrimination if they start taking from us and giving to them. It’s racist. We should do something about it, right? After what happened to Dad, it should be us who …’