‘She’s dead,’ he said flatly. ‘She died when I was seven.’ He thought for a moment, then added, ‘I’m not supposed to remember her, but I do. I remember everything about her.’ He was surprised by his unaccustomed openness. Was it the company? Or the weed? He watched Lance pass the joint back to Melissa – Callum, Ben noted, wasn’t having any – and he figured he must have taken the smoke in more deeply than he’d intended.

‘Who told you that you weren’t supposed to remember her?’ Melissa asked him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and angled her head. Her eyes, Ben noted, were as pale as Callum’s, and just as difficult to decipher.

Ben shrugged. ‘My dad, I guess,’ he said, even though there was no guesswork about it. Whenever Ben tried to talk to his dad about his mum, his dad would do everything but sneer. Forget everything you think you know about her, he would say. All you’re doing is telling yourself lies. She’s gone, and good riddance – that’s all you need to remember.

‘No offence or anything,’ Melissa said. ‘But your dad sounds like a dick.’

Lance gave a splutter of laughter. Melissa flushed when Ben looked at her, but when she smiled, he found himself smiling back.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s what my mum thought, too.’

Once again, the others laughed, and inside Ben revelled in their reaction.

‘Not that I’m one to talk,’ Melissa said, after a moment. ‘My dad’s not just a dick. He’s also a fucking arsehole.’

Ben half expected Lance to laugh again, but this time he stayed silent. Ben waited for Melissa to go on.

‘On the one hand, he treats me like a trophy,’ she said. ‘Whenever I go home – whenever I’m allowed home – it’s like I’m something to be buffed and polished. To be paraded in front of his friends. He boasts about how well I’m doing at school, how one day I’ll be a doctor or a lawyer. I mean, never mind that I want to be an actress. And never mind that, the moment his friends leave, he treats me the way he treats my mum. Like I’m worthless. Like no matter what I achieve, it won’t ever be enough.’

She dropped the butt of the joint on to the floor, and ground it into the mud with her heel. Any remaining spark would have been extinguished long before she eventually let up.

‘He wanted a son, you see,’ she added, glancing at Ben. ‘He’s never even bothered to deny it. He even told me once, said he and Mum would have tried again, but he didn’t want to risk ending up with another girl.’