As he listened to Miss Radcliffe’s voicemail his hand began to tremble. Heat carried up the back of his neck, instantly warming it from the cold wind hitting it now he was out of the van. There’d been an incident at school involving Freddie and another child. He didn’t need her to say who the other child was; he already knew. It could only have been Amias. Amias the spoiled kid who didn’t have any boundaries and had clearly decided for whatever reason that he didn’t like Freddie. She was asking if he could come and get Freddie now. He’d been very upset by the incident and wanted to go home. The message was left at two forty-five but as he’d suspected he’d have been in one of the dells then. Guilt hit him so forcefully he took a step backwards, leaning against the van.

They’d been doing so well. He was getting his life more organised now, washing clothes every night so there weren’t as many dirty ones hanging around the house. He was even loading the dishwasher before bed and emptying it in the mornings. He still had to get on top of dusting and hoovering, but at least he was headed in the right direction. He wouldn’t be completely embarrassed to have someone round his house now.

Within seconds any feeling of progress in his fatherly self-esteem had gone, and he felt a failure again. More so than ever before. Freddie had needed him, and he hadn’t been there. His poor boy. His sweet, gorgeous boy had been beaten up. In primary school. Nick could barely believe it and he raised his eyes to the dusky blue sky. He couldn’t remember anything as bad as this happening when he was younger.

Miss Radcliffe had kept the message brief, her voice strained, not giving any real details, only that it happened at afternoon break. Nick’s mind pictured Freddie with a black eye or a bloody nose, his uniform torn and hanging off him like some desperate street urchin. He was being melodramatic. He had to calm down. Until he knew what exactly had happened, getting worked up wasn’t going to help anyone. It certainly wasn’t going to help Freddie.

It was already ten past three; the children would be coming out of school any minute. Nick shoved his keys back in his pocket and marched straight there. The feelings flooding into his system were stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. Of course he’d been angry at times through his life. Who hadn’t? But this … this was something else. It was a guttural rage. Fierce and defensive. Some primal instinct to protect his boy that rushed the adrenalin through his veins.