She didn’t come into the hall, which threw me a bit, so I stood there uselessly for a moment. Then the warm sweet smell drove me into the kitchen and a few minutes later I was piling butter and jam onto the fresh crumbly scones and cramming them into my mouth so fast I almost choked myself.

The combination of sugar and stodge calmed me a bit anyway and I could feel myself coming down, like I was a helium balloon and someone was yanking on the string.

I went to the doorway of the living room, where Mrs Mack was bent over one of her crossword books, Radio 4 on in the background. She didn’t look up as I lurked there, and I was forced to speak first.

‘Scones are nice, thanks,’ I said grudgingly, and she grunted in response, then looked at me over the tops of her horn-rimmed glasses.

‘Want to tell me what’s got your goat?’ she said. I’d never heard anyone use this expression before knowing Mrs Mack. I shrugged. Then the words just seemed to spill out.

‘He’s dead,’ I said, ‘my …’ I swallowed. ‘My … father.’

My face began to burn again, from shame using what felt like a poncy word. All I could hear was, ‘Luke, I am your father,’ in Darth Vader’s voice then and I gave a high-pitched, weird laugh.

Mrs Mack frowned and put down the crossword book, before reaching to turn off the radio. She regarded me for several moments in silence before speaking.

‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Elliott,’ she said, then, ‘Shouldn’t you and your mum be together right now?’

I shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ I said. ‘Think she wants to be alone.’ The lie was so easy. Mrs Mack frowned, and I felt a wash of guilt because I knew she was judging Mum right then.

‘Would you like to talk about it?’ she said. I shook my head vigorously.

‘He didn’t mean anything to me,’ I said. The phrase felt foreign coming out of my mouth. I was aware I had picked it up from some adult, maybe on telly. I was embarrassed all over again, then angry because I was embarrassed.

‘Well, for all that …’ said Mrs Mack. Then she clapped her hands down on her lap. ‘Let’s you and me watch some television and have a cup of tea then, shall we?’

She got up. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘Could you go into my bedroom and get my cardigan, please? It’s hanging on the chair there.’