I wandered into her bedroom, sighing as though I felt hard done by, and at that moment the doorbell rang. I could hear Mrs Mack go to the front door and begin talking to whoever was there. It sounded like someone collecting for something. Mrs Mack said she wasn’t made of money but she wasn’t having dead babies on her conscience.

In her bedroom I found the pink knobbly cardigan straight away, and I picked it up. But before I turned to leave the room, it felt as though a magnet was pulling my gaze towards the wardrobe. Mrs Mack was still talking to the person on the doorstep and my heart kicked harder in my chest as I walked over to the wardrobe and opened it carefully, making sure it didn’t squeak. My fingers shook as I reached up and took down the wooden box.

I was thinking that I was like my father as I prised open the lid and wrapped a few twenties into my fist, before stuffing them into my pocket.

My heart seemed to be banging audibly as I went back into the living room with the cardigan.

She bustled about in the kitchen and I could hear her humming softly to herself. Then she came into the living room with a tray of tea, more scones nestled on a plate, along with the butter and the jam.

‘I imagine you’ve probably got room for another one or two of those scones, am I right?’ she said with a smile and placed the tray on the coffee table.

I didn’t reply but went to put the telly on. I stared at Byker Grove, my eyes wide and stinging. I felt like I was going to be sick. I wanted to press rewind, right back to when I got home from school. I wanted to do it all differently. The money seemed to pulse hotly inside my pocket and I wondered if I could take it out and somehow leave it on the floor, for her to find.

But I didn’t.

To this day I can’t explain why I did it. I remember being a ball of anger and lacking the ability to unpick why I felt so bad. I hurt, and I was sad, and I wanted to do something bad, something extreme. I was angry with my dead father for being such a loser and I was angry with Mum for minding that he was dead. I was angry with Mrs Mack just because she was there.

The match seemed to have finished and the room was dark now. I got up slowly from the sofa and went to the kitchen to find another beer. Leaning into the light of the fridge, I felt sadness and regret throb through me. I reached for one beer, and then changed my mind. I closed the fridge and went to the freezer where we kept the gin.