‘Congratulations on the lovely performance before half term,’ he says, and now he’s holding his hand out to shake mine. I accept.

‘Thanks! I really can’t take the praise, though. It was all Si – Mr Sullivan. Yeah, Mr Sullivan. He’s boss. I mean, professional. A true pro.’

‘Are you from Liverpool?’

‘Yeah. How’d you guess?’

‘My mum’s from Southport.’ He leans back into his door frame.

‘Oh. Wow … erm … that’s spooky. Well, not really.’

‘A coincidence, maybe?’

‘A mature spin on spooky. I’ll go with that. Anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.’

‘I did. It was a very special night.’

‘Well, like I said. You should tell Mr Sullivan, he’ll be thrilled.’

‘No, it was you I wanted to tell, actually. You’re wrong when you say you didn’t do much, Miss Roscoe. You did everything.’

I stuff the pens into my satchel and blow a raspberry to dismiss his comments. I’ve honestly no idea why. In a panic, I blow another raspberry, just to highlight how ridiculous I am.

‘You helped my daughter,’ the man says, unaware of my silliness. ‘I’m Layla Birch’s dad.’

‘Oh my! Layla Birch’s dad,’ I squeal, and I shake his hand. Again.

‘Oliver,’ he says. ‘Ollie.’

‘It’s so nice to meet you, Oliver … Ollie.’

‘The pleasure’s all mine.’

‘You have an amazing kid.’

‘You’re an amazing teacher. Layla tells me you have a lovely singing voice.’

‘Mediocre at best. But your daughter, well, she’s gonna go far.’

‘Thanks to you, Miss Roscoe.’

‘Chloe! Call me Chloe. Or Chlo?’

‘Okay. Chlo.’

‘Unless we’re in school and then you’d have to call me Miss Roscoe.’

‘I’m a bit old for school, don’t you think?’

And I laugh. Well, that was funny. He’s funny. Oliver. Ollie. God, I’m just so made up that I helped Layla Birch; and I mean, really, really helped her, because I’m standing here with her dad, and he’s genuinely grateful. And funny. He’s been through hell and yet he’s being funny.

‘I was here to—’ I feel the need to explain.

‘So now you know—’ Ollie says at the same time, then, ‘Sorry. You first, Chlo.’

‘Oh, I was just gonna say that I came here to view this flat, Number three.’

‘And I was going to say – now you know where I live. I mean, where Layla lives. Should I tell her that her teacher is about to become her neighbour?’

‘God no!’

‘You didn’t like it?’

‘No, I loved it. I do. It’s – erm – not the right time.’

‘Well, if you have second thoughts and want to see how the place can look – you know, lived in, slight leak in the bathroom, clothes hanging on the radiator ’cause I never get a chance to fix the tumble dryer – honestly, drop by.’