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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

‘You should just go and have a nose around next door every now and again. Wait until they’re out. I’ll call you if they come home.’

She hits me with a cushion. We’re both smiling. One of the professional house-lookers is talking to the couple about ‘outdoor space’. ‘Isn’t that all there is outdoors? Space?’ Mum says.

The couple are standing in a green square at the back of the house they’re looking at. It’s astroturf, like I used to train on every Wednesday evening with the football team up at the school. Mum scoffs, ‘I don’t understand why people are doing this nowadays. What’s wrong with grass? Why are people too busy to mow lawns or deal with mud or give worms somewhere to live?’

‘It is what it is,’ I say.

She smiles.

Evenings like this are rare now. I’ve got homework to finish – English Lit revision as well as the Maths from earlier. But these are tests I’m willing to fail.

As if reading my mind, Mum asks, ‘Homework?’

‘No, finished it all.’

‘Liar. Off with you.’ She digs her feet in sideways, under my leg, and pushes. I make to complain. ‘Hey, it is what it is,’ she says.

I throw a cushion at her on my way out.

Later, she puts her head around my door to say goodnight. ‘Thanks for your help this evening, Josh. With the shopping. We’ll watch something you want to watch tomorrow night, OK?’

I nod, knowing that tomorrow night Mum probably won’t be like this, if she’s here at all. And even if she was here and we did find something to watch that she agrees to, she’d probably fall asleep before it’s halfway through.

So I’ll go and watch things upstairs, on my own, on my laptop, the house around me so quiet I’ll think it has eaten itself.

But hey, it is what it is.

SEVEN

SEVEN

Breaktime. Younger kids slip past me, their too-big backpacks beating against their shoulders as they run. A group of girls is forming outside the toilets, waiting for the next group member to emerge. They’re blocking the corridor and a young teacher whose name I don’t know moves them on towards the playground doors. As soon as the teacher goes into her classroom, the girls come back, disappear into the toilet, then come out one by one and wait for each other. They do this every Friday. Every day, probably. But I’m only here to watch on a Friday.