‘We’re all in that boat, Mr Foxton,’ Dr Gale mumbles into her notes.

Silver Foxton clears his throat. ‘But I’m not going to pin all the blame on budget cuts, criminally negligent as they may be. We at Five Oaks failed in this instance above all. Now a thorough investigation was carried out with your form group, after which it became clear that Nate and Joey Mackie had made repeated threats to attack you on the last day of school. I appreciate that those threats may have appeared more serious to you than they in fact were, but nonetheless it’s behaviour that Five Oaks will not tolerate. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that the two of them were advised to find themselves a new school.’ He winks at me. ‘I rather enjoyed that conversation with their father, I must say.’

I return his smile.

‘Noel Clark, Oliver’s form tutor,’ he goes on, ‘was dismissed earlier this term. Just too many safeguarding opportunities missed, I’m afraid to say. He had to go.’

‘It’s a start,’ Dr Gale says. Shaun looks over and raises his eyebrows at me.

Foxton stands, stretches a hand out. ‘So, I am sorry, chap. I apologize wholeheartedly on behalf of Five Oaks. You have been treated appallingly. And I’d like to invite you, whenever you’re ready, to join us again and retake the GCSEs that you missed in the summer.’

I shake his hand. I thank him, tell him that I’d like that.

It’s happening. They’re going to let me out. Silver Foxton came to apologize, not to tell everyone that he’d found something of serious concern in my schoolbag. This fear has haunted me the last seven months. As my treatment pressed forward, as I found some order, as the slugs retreated and didn’t return, with help I sorted the realities from the half-truths, the half-truths from the delusions. But there definitely was a bomb. There must have been. A dud mercifully, but a bomb nonetheless. Somewhere, somebody must have it. I’m sure of that.

The doctors take notes as Shaun and Anka deliver glowing reports of my progress on the ward. They both confirm that they are happy for me to be treated as an outpatient from now on.

‘And Mr Morcombe,’ Dr Gale says, ‘do you feel it’s within your abilities to have Oliver back at home with you?’

Gramps smiles. His eyes look watery. ‘I’d like nothing better,’ he says, croaking as he utters the words. ‘I’ve redecorated your room,’ he tells me. ‘And I finished that beach buggy we started. Just needs a test run now.’

I beam back at him.

‘Forgive me, but I must ask,’ Dr Obisanya says. ‘Has Oliver ever demonstrated any tendency towards violence at home, Mr Morcombe?’