They knock on his door and open it tentatively, looking inside. His eleventh-birthday cards are still standing on his desk and he’s lying on his bed, wearing the Luke Skywalker costume he’d asked for, claiming that it made him feel brave. Looking at their son, curled up, holding on to a childhood cuddly toy that he immediately casts aside, he doesn’t look brave. He looks frightened. And ashamed.

‘Nelson,’ says George, sitting down at the end of the bed and reaching out to lay a hand on his son’s feet, although the boy pulls them away. He doesn’t like to be touched, and they know this, although they both often long to throw their arms around him, to hold him close and keep him safe. ‘We need to talk to you.’

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, sitting up and putting one of his pillows behind his back. ‘My throat is still sore. I can’t go to school tomorrow.’

‘I thought it was your ears,’ says Beverley.

‘Oh yes, that’s what I meant.’

‘Is something …?’ George pauses, wanting to phrase this carefully, so he doesn’t scare his son into silence. ‘Is someone bothering you at school?’ he asks. ‘Is that the reason you don’t want to go in?’

‘No,’ snaps Nelson, looking away, staring at his fingers, which are dancing anxious melodies upon the bedspread. ‘Of course not.’

‘Elizabeth says—’ begins Beverley, but he cuts her off.

‘Elizabeth doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s just trying to cause trouble.’

‘I don’t think she is,’ says George. ‘Who is this Martin Rice anyway?’

Nelson says nothing for a moment, then, quietly: ‘A boy in my class.’

‘And he’s being mean to you?’

Nelson nods.

‘But why?’ asks Beverley. ‘Why would anyone bully you? You’re such a loving boy.’

‘He’s not bullying me!’ says Nelson, tears starting to form in his eyes now. He wipes them away. He doesn’t want them to see him weak. Home is the one place he feels safe, and he won’t have this taken away from him.

‘Is he calling you names?’ asks George.

There’s a long silence, and they wait, saying nothing, until Nelson nods.

‘And what else? Is he hurting you?’

The tears come now, and he breaks down and tells them the extent of the bullying he’s been receiving. And not just from Martin Rice, but from the teachers too, who know what’s going on but won’t challenge the older boy, because he’s good at football and, if they’re honest with themselves, because they’re frightened of him too.

A few days later, George and Beverley are seated in their Range Rover, parked in an unobtrusive spot near Ebury Mews. Beverley is holding a copy of When the Stars Align, her debut novel. It arrived in the post just as they were leaving the house and she’d opened the package while George was driving, letting out a cry of delight when she saw the finished book. Reaching across, George takes it from her and turns to the dedication page, smiling when he sees that she has dedicated it to him, with love.