And everything is back to normal. The dregs of lunch. Dad tips his plate up and scrapes the last of the gravy off with a spoon. He’s already yawning. I can feel it setting in early. The Sunday night dreads. Soon he’ll be lying on the sofa for a nap and it’ll be the sound of the clock ticking in the hallway. Worse than Willy Nelson, worse than the old women at church who know the words to all the hymns and warble their way through the choruses, sliding right up to the high notes. Blank pages to fill. Clean uniform laid out on my bed. Everything in its rightful place.

Mum gets up and opens the oven to check the crumble. There’s a noise from the hall, a pause while I listen out and then it comes again. A knock on the door.

‘Who the bloody hell is that?’

‘Language, Arthur.’

‘I’ll get it.’

I leave them at the table and run through the hall. Three giant leaps. Open the door and it’s Claire standing there with her new jeans on and her hands in her pockets.

‘Glory, glory, Hallelujah.’

‘That bad is it?’ she says.

‘What do you think?’

‘Coming out then?’

‘Too right. Just give me a minute.’

I grab my coat and slip my shoes on. Look at the clock. We can go to the park and still have time to catch the Top Twenty at Claire’s after. I run back to the kitchen but before I can say anything Mum gives me the look.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Claire’s.’

‘No you’re not,’ she says, ‘not unless you’ve finished that homework.’

‘I finished it. I did it before tea.’

‘You didn’t. The page is still blank. I checked.’

I kick at the table leg. Even with my shoes on it jars my toe. I want to tell her to her face she’s a stupid cow but I swallow it down. ‘She’s going to help me with the homework. We’ll do it together.’

‘I said no, Karen. Tell her you’ll see her tomorrow then come and sit down for some pudding.’

There’s no give in her voice. I look at Dad but he just shrugs. He’s holding his spoon and waiting for her to dish him up some crumble. I want to scream. I walk back to the door. Claire rolls her eyes. No need to explain, she heard every word.

‘See you tomorrow, then,’ she says and walks off down the road. I watch her till she’s out of sight. The pockets on her bum in the shape of love hearts. Her bag banging on her hip.