At that moment, the gap between us – between our ages, between our experiences – seemed more enormous than ever before. Unbridgeable. It hurt me – of course it did – and yet at the same time it electrified me. As she raised her head and turned to face me, there was no doubt in my mind that she could feel that distance too. I was certain that she was about to make an excuse, we’d go home our separate ways, and our couple of meetings would become just a brief glitch in the social system, to be consigned to our personal histories.

She gave me a wicked smile. ‘You want to do something fun?’

11.38 a.m.

Mr Clark wipes down the whiteboard and turns to face us. He claps his hands, then rolls them round each other as if lathering up a soap. ‘We have twenty minutes to kill before assembly, lads. What could we possibly discuss?’

The groans have already started by the time he’s halfway through penning the word EXTREMISM across the board in block capitals.

‘You can fail anything else, but no one’s going to be failing general studies,’ he says. ‘Let’s drum this into your idle minds one last time.’

As well as being our form tutor, Mr Clark teaches us general studies. He’s adamant none of us are going to show him up by getting anything short of a C.

‘Who’s going to give us a definition of extremism then?’ he asks.

I do my best to dodge the look he shoots in my direction. ‘Ollie. Extremism, what have you got for us?’

I’ve no idea why he asks me. And I have no idea what to say. My hesitation in answering a question is always an invitation to the room and I’m tensed for the high-pitched howling of my surname to sweep round the class. But it doesn’t come.

‘Any time you like,’ Mr Clark says, breaking the silence.

I stare at the board. For a moment, the word seems to break into pieces, and I can’t quite put it back together. I’m not sure I could even say it out loud.

‘Nothing, Ollie?’ He sweeps his fair hair away from his forehead. He looks furious. ‘Shitting hell,’ he says quietly. He rocks his weight forward until he’s propped against his desk by two tensed arms grabbing the front edge. ‘Do you listen to a single word that’s said in this classroom?’

I flinch, certain that a projectile of some sort is being thrown towards me. But, as I spin round, there’s nothing there, just a sea of blank faces, as expectant of an answer from me as the man at the front.