‘Sorry. Dinner time,’ Alfie says, flipping breaded chicken under the grill and buttering bread on the only small square of worktop that isn’t piled high with food packaging and washing-up. ‘You eaten?’

‘Good, cheers. Had some chips at work.’

‘Beers are outside. Chuck us one over?’

Will nurses a can of Red Stripe as Alfie dishes up, each one of the kids taking their meal and returning to what they were doing. ‘Take this into Mum, yeah,’ he says to the oldest, putting a plate on a tray together with a cup of tea.

‘Fucking madhouse,’ Alfie sniggers as he ushers Will towards his bedroom, stopping en route to break up a row over an iPad.

Alfie’s room is tiny and so cluttered that Will is struggling to find a space big enough to stand in. ‘How come you’re in charge of dinner?’ he asks.

‘They’ll just eat rubbish if I’m not,’ Alfie says.

‘Stressful,’ Will mumbles, perching now on the end of his bed.

‘It’s no sweat.’ Alfie fiddles with a Bluetooth speaker and puts some music on, loud enough to mask the racket around them.

Will looks at the stacks of ring binders and textbooks among the clothes and trainers and aftershaves piled high. How does Alfie study in a place like this? Will is wondering. How did he score all As and A-stars in his GCSEs living like this? Perhaps he really is gifted and never puts in any effort – that’s certainly what Alfie would have everyone believe. But then why all the textbooks and notes everywhere?

‘So tell me,’ Alfie says, sniggering into his beer can, ‘how’s that disco project of yours coming along?’

‘Yeah, we’re designing posters,’ Will says. ‘April wants to sell it as this proper old-school rave.’

‘Now I’ve heard a rumour that there’s a special DJ performance for us all to look forward to.’

‘Yeah, that.’ He feels slightly sick as he always does when he thinks about it. ‘Might be dodging that one.’

‘Be fine, cuz. Only for a load of kids anyway, innit?’

‘Yeah. Because they’re the most forgiving audience, aren’t they?’

‘They’ll love you, Parks. Stop your worrying. You’re cooler than you think.’ Alfie ruffles his hair.

Will feels instantly comforted, his scalp tingling beneath the weight of Alfie’s big hand.

‘You two still not got it on?’ Alfie asks. ‘I’m expecting to see results from my matchmaking.’