‘Did the parcel arrive?’ she asks, screeching panic.

‘It did. Thanks Mum.’

‘I’m not cramping your style, am I?’

‘No, Mum. I’m not fourteen.’

I’m waiting for the bus home from school after staying behind with Si to compare audition notes from Monday. A handful of pupils meander to the bus stop, either from detention or athletics training. Traffic is bumper-to-bumper on this road, horns honking up by the William Hill. It’s either a seven-minute bus ride (without traffic) or a twenty-five-minute walk. I know, I got lucky landing a job in Lewisham so close to Jack’s flat, relieving me of the dreaded commute.

Lucky.

I think I’ll walk.

‘Been busy then? How’s the new job going?’

‘Yeah, it’s okay.’

‘You don’t like it, do you?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I’ve never liked my job, Chloe. But that’s life. You just get on with it.’

She works for the Inland Revenue and loves it. Always taking charge of the collection for office birthdays.

‘Chloe, I just saw Pam Gillespie in Matalan. She hasn’t half aged, my God. Told me about how her Jason’s living in Canada now. Remember him? From school? Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, would he? And now he’s living in Canada. God knows what he’s doing there – I didn’t pry. Told her you’re a fully qualified teacher and she thinks that’s marvellous. Told her how you’re living down in London now and she said, “Oh isn’t that fantastic!” She wondered if you’ve been to see The Lion King yet? I told her I wasn’t sure. Have you?’

I take a short cut through a residential street, although it’s not quiet. A woman pushing a pram is dragging a screaming toddler along and a group of workmen are taking a raucous cigarette break outside a grand terraced house top-to-toe in scaffolding.

‘Mum, I need to tell you something,’ I say. ‘Something … sad.’

‘Oh no,’ she starts, and I know she’s taken the landline phone in her hands to sit down on the bottom stair, bracing herself. ‘Oh, God. Please, don’t tell me. Oh no. What is it?’

‘Jack.’ I clear my throat. ‘Died.’

‘What?’ she asks, as if she’s part deaf.

‘Don’t make me say it again, Mum.’

‘He died?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ah,’ she sighs. Then she repeats this sound in various tones and pitches.

‘Mum? Are you okay?’

‘Ah, love. Ah, I can’t believe it. I’m shocked, I’m really, really shocked. I mean, I thought you were going to say that he left you, or that you had cancer or something. I never expected this, Chloe love. Ah. What was it? Was it suicide?’

‘No, Mum – I’d rather not discuss the det—’