Oliver didn’t say anything for so long I thought even the mystical power of the circle of venting couldn’t overcome his fundamental need to give people the benefit of the doubt. Then he sucked in a breath like he was surfacing in the hundred-meter butterfly. “I realise what Christopher does is very important and helps a lot of people, but it’s incredibly fucking convenient that it means he’s never around whenever anything needs doing. And I’d say if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d chosen his career specifically to keep a thousand miles between him and his family as much and as often as possible. But I can’t say that because I don’t know better because it’s fucking true. He’s done this his whole life—from holidays with his friends when he was sixteen to his gap year to studying in Edinburgh to his year abroad to Médecins Sans Fucking Frontières. If they gave a medal to the most selfish altruistic person in the world, Christopher would win it and then not show up at the ceremony.”

I think it was air more than complaints that Oliver had run out of. The Christopher Sucks speech had actually left him a little flushed. And I did feel sort of bad for Christopher because, while everything Oliver had said was probably accurate, given the Blackwoods, I’d have signed up with MSF as well. And from what Mia had told me the one time we’d met, they got their own flavour of shit from Oliver’s parents.

“Oh God.” Oliver pressed his forehead to his knees. “I’m a terrible person.”

I moved closer and put a hand on his back. “Okay, I should have made the rules of the Hate Room clearer. Nobody is allowed to judge you here, including you.”

Oliver’s shoulders heaved, and he made a sound like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. “It’s just too much. He’s spent his whole life running away and I’ve spent my whole life dealing with the things he’s running away from, and it’s never been good enough, and it’ll never be good enough, and now it can’t ever be good enough because our father is dead.”

For a moment, I just stroked him in what I hoped was a comforting way. “Listen,” I said finally. “You know how I said this was a no-judgment zone? Well, I’m going to say some really naff things now, and I need you not to tell anybody or laugh at me.”

He turned his face slightly towards me. “I shall make a sincere attempt, but it depends how naff they are.”