It was an assembly morning, so the children got into their class lines for outside registration. My own class was gradually forming across the playground, a ragtag multi-limbed beast that jostled, wriggled, and yelled.

I checked my watch. I needed to get over there to register them, but there was no avoiding this conversation. I hadn’t exactly planned what I was going to say. But it was going to basically involve trying not to put my stick any further into the wasps’ nest.

It was a bright morning with the first autumnal chill. I squinted against the onslaught of the light. My head hurt, my injured hand hurt, and my back hurt. The thought of the day ahead made me want to groan as I darted glances between my class line, which was even less straight than it had been a few minutes ago, and then the gates.

I gave up after a few more moments, and hurried over with a shout of, ‘Come on, you horrible lot, get in line,’ before the bell went. I registered all the names and, as the classes began to stream inside, I spied the figure of Tyler coming alone towards the gate, looking like he was in no particular rush to get here. Clare had already taken his class inside.

His nose was running a snail trail down onto his lip and he snorted into the sleeve of his – non-regulation – hoodie as he eyed me with the air of a cat whose tail had just been trodden on.

‘Come on, Tyler,’ I said with faux cheerfulness. ‘If you’re quick you won’t be marked late for registration.’ He grunted in a way that boded excellently for his later communication methods as a teenager, and we walked awkwardly into the main entrance together.

‘No dad this morning?’ I said, before I could stop myself.

Tyler shot me a glowering look and mumbled something indecipherable.

‘What’s that, buddy?’ I said as we reached the assembly hall together. I stopped and he did too. I had to lean down to hear what he said.

‘He was too tired,’ said Tyler. ‘Maggie dropped me on the corner.’

Was he, now …

My heart kicked a little in my chest. I had no idea who Maggie was but that was not the important thing here.

‘Been having late nights, eh?’ I said as casually as I could muster. I had a strong desire – worryingly strong – to grab the boy by the shoulder and question him about what time his father had come home the night before last. But I’d lost him now; he ignored me and ran off into the hall. As I came in I saw that Jackie Dawson was watching me, her forehead creased into a frown.

I finished my account of what had happened with Bennett at lunchtime and emailed it to Jackie, leaving out what had been going on outside school.