It was an agony to be caught like this. Tom tried to compose his face, to remember how to talk to others. He said, “No. I’m O.K.” Then, almost too late, “Thank you.”

“Nonsense,” Fiona said, leaning across from the passenger seat. “We’ll take you home.”

“It’s out of your way,” Tom managed. “The wrong direction.”

“It’ll only take us twenty minutes to drop you off, but it’s a long walk for you at this time of night,” Fiona said.

“No,” Tom said. He tried to give them a smile that he hoped looked casual and conclusive all at once. “It’s O.K., I’m happy to walk.” He made to move past the car.

“Don’t be silly, Tommy,” Fiona persisted. “Get in.”

Tom stopped again. “I don’t want a lift,” he said finally. He made sure to keep his voice very polite; he felt for a moment as though his mother was watching him.

“You can’t walk all that way in the dark,” Fiona said.

“Leave me alone,” Tom said. Being forced to have this conversation felt like having sandpaper scraped across his skin.

“We’re only trying to help.” Fiona sounded affronted now.

“It’s not help if people don’t want it.”

Gavin said softly, “It’s O.K., hen. He doesn’t want a lift.” He added, “Goodnight, Tommy.”

But Fiona said, “You should recognize when people are trying to help you, Tommy. Don’t be stubborn, now.” There was a note of self-righteousness in her voice that enraged Tom.

“Look,” he said, “will you just fuck off?”

A short, shocked pause, then Fiona began, “Now you listen—” but Tom ignored her and limped on past the car, grateful when the darkness became total again. He wasn’t sure, after a time, where the night ended and he began. He just needed to sleep, he told himself. He’d lived through worse than this.

He saw Malcolm’s house long before he was anywhere near it; all the lights were on. It floated brightly in the darkness.

When he finally reached it and limped through the front door, Malcolm came and met him in the hallway. Tom realized his uncle had waited up for him, and for some reason the idea made him angry.

Malcolm rubbed his hand across his face. “You’re back.”

“I got lost,” Tom said, wondering if he was about to get in trouble. He didn’t care.

“Are you O.K.?”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah.” His ankle hurt. He was too tired to think.

“You’re shivering,” Malcolm said. “Come and have a hot drink. There’s cocoa. I’ll make a hot-water bottle and get a blanket.”

“No,” Tom said, the word coming out more harshly than he’d intended. “I’m fine. I just want to go to bed.”

Malcolm put out his hand to touch Tom’s arm. His voice was quiet and insistent. “I was worried.”