She popped her head over the top of the fence. ‘Got yourselves lost, boys?’

The dance of the guilty, limbs flying like puppets with their strings suddenly pulled. Coughing, spluttering, fingers burned from hiding the ciggy behind a back, one jumping so far he fell into some stinging nettles.

Kate hid a smile.

‘Shit!’ said the one who would now have a rash on his hand.

One of them had a zigzag shaved into his hair, around the back from one side to the other. He glowered at her. ‘What do you think you’re doing, lady? You nearly give us a heart attack.’

‘The ciggy’ll do that. After the asthma, lung cancer and low sperm count.’ She noticed the crest on their school uniforms, blazers worn with the sleeves rolled up. ‘Whaddayasay, I don’t tell your headmaster about your little extracurricular here, if you answer me some questions.’

Three stony faces stared up at her.

‘Why don’t you grab my cock?’ said Zigzag.

‘I didn’t bring my tweezers.’

‘Fuck this,’ he retorted and started to walk off, the others following.

‘Hey, quitters! I hear Mr Hodgson is very keen to improve his lower-than-low Ofsted rating – in fact he’s been shipped in specially to do so – which means, boys, I’d expect he’s a little trigger-happy with the letters home, the detentions and even –’ she winced – ‘the suspensions.’ The boys had stopped walking. ‘All I’m asking is for you to tell me what you know about the damaged fence a little way up.’

‘It wasn’t us,’ said Nettle Burn.

‘But you know about it?’

Zigzag shrugged. ‘Saw it.’

‘Any idea who it was?’

‘Couldda been anyone.’

‘Ah, yes. I had deduced this myself. But . . . was it anyone in particular?’ Kate smiled expectantly at them but all she got in return was shoes scuffing at the gravel, eyes swivelling to the sky. ‘I’m sure Mr Hodgson doesn’t really want to hear about your funny cigarettes, bet he’s got enough to do, eh? New term and all that.’

‘We ain’t grasses,’ said Zigzag sullenly.

‘Or there again, maybe he’s a bit bored. Waiting for the phone to ring.’

‘Fucking ’ell . . . why don’t you hassle that lot what bus-in from the Western estate,’ he mumbled angrily, walking off. ‘Come on, lads.’

‘What about a name?’ called Kate, but they carried on, their shoulders hunched. ‘Thanks, boys! By the way, you’re not bunking off, are you? Has class finished?’ she added as an afterthought.

They ignored her.

‘Honest boys don’t do that,’ she said, half to herself. ‘Just don’t.’

She watched them disappear around the corner and then climbed down. Brushed the fence dust off her hands. It wasn’t a guaranteed identification, but it was a start at least. She’d call the college in the morning.

Making her way back into the kitchen, she put on an apron and started to separate the eggs. Then she saw a text had come through from Becky while she was outside. ‘Leaving now. See you (both!) soon. X.’ Kate smiled, then switched on the radio. It was a nineties show, and she sang along to an old Blur track.