‘A few times. Sorry, I shouldn’t have told you.’ She appears to be almost irritated by Will’s lack of reaction.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘It wouldn’t be a problem if you were.’

‘If I was what?’

‘What I just said. What your father said.’

‘What, gay?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want to know if I’m gay?’

Will detects an instant of panic in his mum’s eyes, like maybe she actually doesn’t want to know.

Is he gay? Certainly it’s been suggested to him enough times that he is: by Danny, by people at school who play contact sports and obsess over their clothing and hair. But in spite of these people apparently able to assess someone’s sexuality at a glance, Will has, in fact, always considered himself straight.

In recent weeks, though, a seed of uncertainty has begun to grow. Sure, the thought of April, of touching her bare skin, of breathing her in, imagining the taste of her, her body entwined with his, drives him wild. He’s never known desire and desperation like it. But what, then, are those things he finds himself feeling around Alfie all about? Why is he so instinctively jealous of other people Alfie spends time with? Why does he feel like he wants to know everything about him? Why does his mysteriousness and secrecy excite Will? And why does his touch feel so nice?

He’s never felt anything like it before. Why is he so drawn to this guy? How has he become so attached, so fast, to this person?

‘What makes you think I’m gay?’ he asks.

‘Look at your brother.’

‘What?’

‘Out enjoying himself. Different girl every night of the week. That’s what boys do.’

‘Not all of them.’

‘Boys are simple.’

Are we? Will wonders. Maybe boys are expected to be simple.

‘What was it they used to say? Fuck ’em and chuck ’em.’

‘Mum!’

‘Well! You’ll only regret it if you don’t.’ She’s laughing, but it soon fades. ‘You’ll end up like me before you know it. You’ll regret not enjoying yourself.’

It occurs to Will that his parents’ concerns are actually more about him not being one of the boys – a lad, a proper man.

‘Get out there and break a few hearts!’ his mum says.

‘Not sure I want to do that.’

Incredibly, given her level of inebriation, she picks up on the sorrow in his tone. ‘There’s someone, isn’t there?’

Will shrugs.

‘Thought so. No one knows you like your own mum. And it is a girl, yes?’

‘Yes it’s a girl, Mum,’ Will shoots back. ‘Not that it should matter.’

‘It doesn’t,’ she says, her relief palpable. ‘Well, don’t hang about. Make your move.’

‘Not that simple.’