His mum and dad followed them into the hall. His dad raised an eyebrow. His smile was thin and forced.

‘Right,’ he said, when Carla was gone. ‘Let’s go and take a look at your new home!’

2

His room was small, with a single, wood-framed bed and a desk. There was a wire waste bin by a wardrobe. The walls were grey, although at one time they had been white; there were rectangular patches where posters had protected them from the accumulated grime.

Lindsey stood by the one window, staring out of it, arms folded, shoulders hunched. She looked almost in pain, as though the effort of containing all the emotion was hurting her.

He felt sorry for her.

‘Hey,’ he said, and put a hand on her shoulder. It was hard and tense. ‘You OK?’

She shook his hand off.

‘You just want me gone,’ she said.

‘I don’t.’

‘You do. Gone from here and gone from your life.’

She was right, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say that.

‘I don’t want you to leave,’ Matt said. ‘Honestly. But I don’t know what you want me to do. You can’t stay here.’

‘I know. But you could want me to. You could want to be with me.’

He no longer had anything to say. He still liked Lindsey – maybe loved her even, in some ways – but he’d had enough. She seemed intent on ruining their relationship. She needed to be constantly reassured that he loved her, that he was going to be faithful to her, that he wasn’t interested in anyone else, and he could never say enough to convince her. It was exhausting. He genuinely liked her – she was smart and funny and kind and loyal, but it was all lost in the constant neediness.

‘I do,’ he said miserably. ‘I really do.’

‘No you don’t.’ She turned to look at him. Her face was red with fury. ‘And I can’t believe you did that to me earlier.’

He closed his eyes. What was this? What had he done now?

‘Did what?’

‘You know.’

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘Honestly.’

‘Yes, you do.’

He felt like screaming. He was supposed to be starting university, meeting new people, but instead he was arguing with his girlfriend, and he didn’t even know why.

‘What did I do?’ he said. ‘Tell me.’

‘I shouldn’t have to tell you,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not going to tell you. The fact you don’t know goes to show you don’t care about me.’

He rubbed his temples. All he had to do was get through this and she’d be gone. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.’

‘So you don’t want to know what you did?’