His cronies laughed. Ben felt sick inside, but his face remained calm and in the second he gave to his thoughts, Miriam came back at Iddon, ‘And what makes you think that Sir would even fancy you?’

The class’s laughter cut her off and Iddon turned redder than a Comic Relief plastic nose.

‘Well, thank you Miriam,’ Ben said, trying to lighten the heaviness that pressed on him. ‘You credit me with more taste than that, then?’

‘Oh – he makes me sick, Sir,’ Miriam said mockingly. ‘He thinks he’s sex on a stick.’

‘That’s enough, Miriam,’ Ben said. ‘I think Iddon is embarrassed enough, don’t make it worse for him.’

‘Yeah – well, Sir…’ Miriam smiled at Ben. She liked him.

Tracy, one of the brassiest girls in the class, called from across the room, ‘If you were gay then, Sir, who would you fancy?’

‘Why would you want to know if I’m gay, Tracy?’

‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘then we could talk about men, Sir, you know, compare notes. What do you think about Robson Green or that gorgeous Michael Owen?’

‘No, Tracy,’ Ben said, shaking his head and smiling broadly. ‘I don’t think I’ll be joining you in the girls’ toilet to do make-up and talk about boys.’ And addressing the class through their laughter, he continued, ‘All right, let’s try and pull the threads of this debate together and see what we’re left with.’

After Ben had summarised their discussion and highlighted some of the sticking points he felt they ought to think about, Manon put her hand up: ‘Mr Pasgen, you also left us with a question. You asked us why we would want to know if you are gay? You haven’t actually said that you are gay… but you haven’t said that you’re not either.’ She seemed to be judging essence and detail as she spoke. ‘I think that the uncertainty you’ve left us with would be a really good thing for us to consider. I mean, if you, or any of our teachers at Bro Meirion are gay, does it make any difference to us in this class, to our parents, or to other kids and teachers in school?’

‘Well done, Manon,’ Ben said, his heart pounding so thunderously he wondered if those closest to him could hear it. ‘I think that would be a good exercise to do during the week. It’ll get us all thinking about our prejudices and our willingness – or unwillingness – to be tolerant and understanding. Good…. Thank you… all of you who contributed. We can come back to this discussion next week.’

The students erupted into exchanges around the room, which only the bell interrupted. As Ben dismissed the class the knotted muscles that had cramped his stomach and constricted his shoulders began to slacken and the rhythm of his heart regained its imperceptible certainty.

Miss Edwards the school secretary came to the junior science laboratory towards the end of the afternoon while Ben was teaching. She handed him a note from Mr Hopcyn, the headteacher: he needed to see Ben immediately after the bell. Ifan Hopcyn’s straight-talking brusqueness had upset a number of the staff in the two years he’d been at Bro Meirion, but Ben could only speak as he found, and he liked him. As the children cleared away their things, Ben wondered if the Head had finally got a decision for him on the Year Twelve field trip.