I’ve no intention of sitting. Coming to this lesson was madness – I’m furious with myself. I look at her, blank-faced.

If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Say it right now.

‘We didn’t just talk about you, Sophia and I.’

I’m barely listening. In my mind, I’m already leaving. I imagine unlatching the door. I visualize taking the stairs three at a time. Fuck the slugs. I’ll stamp on them if I have to.

‘You see our conversation began by her mentioning her boyfriend.’ There’s nervousness in her voice.

Twenty seconds and I’d be outside. Across the yard, past the bins, into the car park. A minute tops to be out of the main gates.

‘We were at cross purposes, I suppose. I thought she meant you, you see, but then she mentioned that his name was Darren. Perhaps it was Daryl. He’s older than her – works in the city.’

Her story is irrelevant – I don’t need to know the details of whatever yarn Sophia spun for her. I nod as if listening, all the while shuffling towards the door. I fantasize being outside in the air. Of finally being back at the door where I came in. Grabbing Sophia’s hand. Getting moving.

The door I came in through ten minutes ago. I can visualize it now. Directly below this window. I jerk backwards. That isn’t right. I turn towards the window, but I’m too far away to see the ground below. I don’t understand.

‘I’m so sorry, Oliver,’ Miss Morgan says. ‘You look terribly confused. But I think it best that you know.’

‘Bins. The car park.’

‘I beg your pardon, Oliver? Oliver – you’ve turned as white as a sheet.’ She reaches for my hand. I snatch it away.

‘It isn’t the field.’ My voice is just a whine.

‘Oliver, what’s wrong?’

I point to the window. ‘It isn’t the field. Out there.’

She’s frowning heavily. ‘The field is the other end of the building, dear.’

I brush past her, dashing to the window. I need to look again. But I know what I’ll see. Miss Morgan stands at my shoulder as my head sweeps from side to side, digesting the view. The bin store, the concrete staff car park, the row of small hatchbacks, the towering back wall of the neighbouring flats. There’s nothing more – no grass, no trees.

‘She was on the field.’

‘Please sit down, Oliver,’ she’s saying. Her expression is one of deep concern. Or it could be fear. ‘You’re shaking dreadfully.’

‘She was on the field.’ The words break up as they tumble out. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Please be calm, dear.’ She drags the piano stool to the middle of the room, positioning it behind my knees. She gestures at me to sit.