‘You said you’d be here to eat.’

He kicks the base of the kitchen units gently.

His mum takes a deep breath and runs a hand though her hair. She gestures to the kitchen counter, to the right of the sink. ‘It’s under the cloth if you want it. It’s cold though.’

He looks over at the red-and-white cloth that covers a plate of uneaten food.

‘Egg and chips,’ she says.

Cold egg and chips. He stares at her and catches a flash of challenge in her eyes.

Go on then. Eat your cold egg and chips.

‘I’m going up. Unless you’re not okay with that?’ It comes out of his mouth with more edge than he’d intended and he wishes he could snatch the words out of the air and shove them back down his throat.

He sees Tamsyn glance over her shoulder to check their mother’s reaction.

But his mum doesn’t seem to have noticed. Instead she rubs one arm with her hand above the elbow. ‘Did you ask Mrs Davenport about more work?’ That tone again. Soft and appeasing. Trying not to jab the python in its hole.

His body turns rigid and he swears under his breath, fist clenching as he holds fast, fighting the urge to punch his fist through the wall. Mrs Davenport. Her voice still in his head.

There’s no more work for you. I’ve seen you looking at her. Don’t think I haven’t. It’s no longer appropriate for you to be here.

Then that touch on his arm. A squeeze. The alcohol on her breath as she leant closer to him.

You’re a good-looking boy, Jago. I can certainly see why she’d be tempted.

‘Because I could ask when I go up there on Friday—’

‘She said there wasn’t.’

‘And she actually said that?’

‘For God’s sake, leave it!’

‘Don’t raise your voice. There’s no need. I just—’

‘Look,’ he says, getting himself back under control. ‘She gave me money for the fence and said there was no more work up there. They have a gardener who’s doing extra hours. Okay?’

‘It sounds like you could have pushed more, that’s all.’

‘That’s not all though, is it?’

She furrows her brow. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I mean, it’s not all. It’s not about me pushing, it’s about you thinking I’m a waste of space.’

‘What?’

‘That woman thinks it too. Not good enough. And she’s right, isn’t she?’

‘I don’t think Eleanor thinks that,’ his sister says from behind them. ‘She’s really nice.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Tamsyn. Open your eyes.’