‘What would happen if we don’t? What would actually happen if we broke the law? It’s not like we’d die or anything, is it?’

‘No, you probably wouldn’t die, Jack, but you’d certainly have to go to prison.’

‘They can’t put us in prison.’ Emmy looks outraged. ‘We’re very very small children.’

‘Of course we wouldn’t have to go to prison, Emmy. Mum’s just saying that.’

‘Okay, well maybe you wouldn’t have to, but I would.’

‘You should go to prison,’ Emmy scowls, ‘for making us go to school.’

‘Anyway you wouldn’t even have to go to prison, you’d probably just have to pay them money or something,’ Jack points out.

Indeed. Under clause 1 of US educational law 7668, as my son, the District Attorney, correctly identifies, they would probably just fine me.

‘Okay, Jack, I’m sure you’re right, because, you know, why wouldn’t you be right? After all, you’re all of eight and I’m, like, thirty-four, so clearly you’ve been around the block a few more times than I have, but you’ll see, I won’t send you to school and then, one day, we’ll all be having a nice time, eating cottage pie and minding our own business, when the sheriff will burst through the front door and haul me away and I’ll have to spend the rest of my life doing hard labour, wearing an unflattering orange boiler suit and all because you wouldn’t take my word for it, you know, just for once.’

‘You don’t have to be mean,’ he says, sulkily.

‘Jesus, Jack,’ I say just as sulkily.

I manoeuvre the truck roughly down the road, nearly slamming into a deer on the first bend. At this hour of the morning you can smell the sulphur rising from the deserted mine shafts in the hills. The court of Jack is in temporary recess. He sits silently on the front bench and sneaks tropical-flavoured Skittles into his mouth one by one.

‘So do they know I’m coming?’ he says eventually. ‘Will they like me?’

‘Yes, they do know you’re coming and yes, they will like you.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I like you,’ I say lamely. I know little about the school except that it is the only one within an hour’s radius and that the children’s teacher-to-be, Sue, very much likes to sleep in caves.

‘Come on, Mum, everybody likes their children.’

Not wishing to commit perjury, I refrain from answering. Jack proceeds to entertain himself the rest of the journey by perfecting his introduction.

‘Hello, I’m Jack and I’m from another country.’

‘Hi, I’m Jack. I come from England.’