Her mouth drops in shock and he kicks himself for losing his temper with her. It’s not her fault she’s been taken in by their airs and graces. He knows he should say sorry, but instead he just gets angrier.

‘You think I’m good for nothing. All of you!’

His mother tries to form words, but he’s too quick for her.

‘I’m lazy, aren’t I? Gutless, too.’

‘Jago, I—’

‘A layabout. That’s what you think, isn’t it?’ His body is tensed, muscles quivering.

Her face drains of colour. ‘No, I—’

‘You think I’m a fucking loser, don’t you? No job. No exams. No backbone.’

She shakes her head. ‘Jago,’ she says then, her voice quiet and laced with sadness. ‘Why are you so angry?’

Her question punctures him. His fists unclench and he swallows against a lump of emotion which has lodged in his throat. ‘I’m angry because’ —he pauses, takes a breath— ‘because I can’t make you proud of me and I can’t look after you.’ He hesitates. ‘I’m angry I’m not like him, because if I were we’d be okay, wouldn’t we?’

Tears film her eyes. She reaches out to him but he steps back. ‘This has nothing to do with your dad.’

Jago laughs a bitter snort of laughter as his own tears burn the corners of his eyes. ‘It has everything to do with him. Without him you’re so bloody worried you can’t think straight. You’re hanging out with that prick Gareth. Tam’s prancing around that fucking house as if she lives there. And me?’ He spits his words out with bitter self-loathing. ‘I’m just a cunt without a job, who’ll never be the hero his dead father was and every fucker knows it. Especially you. I should just leave, shouldn’t I? Then you wouldn’t have to pretend not to be so bloody disappointed in me all the fucking time.’

His mother’s hand has shot to her mouth. Tamsyn is staring at him with a furrowed brow, half sympathetic, half angry.

‘Don’t speak… like that…’

Jago turns to see his grandfather standing behind them, a smear of dried blood on his cheek. His pyjamas are spotted with reddy-brown spatters.

Jago needs to get out. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need their disapproval. ‘You know what? Fuck this.’

‘If your father… were here… he’d—’

‘Yeah,’ Jago whispers, nodding bitterly. ‘I know.’ Then he turns on his heel and pushes past his grandfather, punching the door on the way out, and slamming the front door behind him so the walls tremble.