I grit my teeth, desperate to apologise, desperate for her not to be angry with me. Desperate to tell her about Susan and what we found. But instead I walk away. It’s better for us both if she hates me.

I wander across to the corner of the pub where me and Paul usually sit. Red, gold and green lights chase each other around the slot machine. Paul stands before it, pushing money in, nudging the pictures, peering beneath the window to try and work out what’s coming next. ‘That’s a mug’s game,’ I say, putting his pint down beside the glass he’s almost finished.

‘Nah, mate, Steve’s just put fifteen quid in, it’s defo gonna pay up. I’m on to a winner. Cheers.’ He knocks back the last of his drink before picking up the fresh pint and clinking glasses with me. ‘She was asking after you when I got here.’ He nods in Michelle’s direction. ‘Is she okay? She looked pretty cut up on Sunday afternoon.’

‘She’s fine. I guess. I don’t know really.’

Paul studies me. ‘Didn’t you walk her home?’

‘No, just…’ I shrug. Shake my head. Bury my face in my pint. Paul knows me too well – he’d detect the lie. ‘She’s fine,’ I finish.

‘Right…’ he says. ‘Okay then.’ He takes another drink. What brings you out on a school night anyway? You do know you’re supposed to be back at Mum’s tomorrow, right?’

‘Am I? Shit, I’m so high on the ride of life, I must have missed that.’ I drain half my pint, looking over at the bar.

‘What’s up?’ He pulls a stool up to the table. ‘You wanna talk about it?’ I shake my head. ‘Mate, I’ve not seen you like this for a while.’

‘Like fucking what?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I don’t know, sailing dangerously close to picking a fight with your best mate, maybe?’

‘I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about,’ I grunt, then add, ‘Nothing I wanna talk about anyway.’ Michelle catches me looking at her and turns away. Maybe I should talk to her. Maybe we can clear this up and move on. Maybe what happened is understandable.

I let out a deep groan, the sound coming out before I’ve realised I’m doing it. It’s long and exhausted and Paul looks at me as if to say told you so. ‘I’ve just had a shit week, that’s all. I need some distraction.’

Paul nods to a girl he’s been on-off shagging for months as a suggestion.

‘Not that sort of distraction.’ I shake my head.

‘I saw your mum the other day,’ says Paul.

‘Oh yeah?’ I’ve picked up the remote and I’m flicking through the channels on the TV suspended in the corner of the pub.

‘She was down town, coming out of the all you can eat. She was with some—’

‘I don’t want to talk about that either.’ I get up, draining the last of my beer.

‘Talk about what?’