‘Thank you,’ Claire had whispered back, slipping it on and kissing him and then one thing had led to another.

After drying her face, she unlocked the door and walked straight into Maureen who was carrying a huge pile of bedding

‘Hello, pet, you okay?’

‘Yes, thank you Mrs— Maureen,’ Claire corrected herself. ‘Can I help you with that?’

‘Oh, thank you, that would be very kind. If you could just help me fold them… these sheets, ever so tricky with just one person.’

Claire listened as Maureen chatted away and she wondered if Paul’s mum was lonely all day in the house. She was clearly proud of Paul and his intelligence though, telling her all the things he could do when he was a baby.

‘Reading by the age of three!’ exclaimed Maureen. ‘I couldn’t get enough books from the library to keep up with him!’

‘He’s still the same now – always in the school library with all the books,’ confided Claire and she saw Maureen cling on to the little piece of knowledge that usually would be forbidden to her.

And that’s where Paul found them on the stair landing, chatting and laughing and folding laundry.

‘Mum,’ said Paul and Claire thought his voice sounded strange. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just folding laundry – Claire kindly offered to help me.’

‘I can help you with that later,’ replied Paul. His voice was terse and his mother paused to look at him mid-fold.

‘It’s no problem, we’re almost done,’ said Claire but before she could finish the sentence, Paul had stormed off, his back rigid.

Claire looked at Maureen, wondering if she’d noticed anything strange. Maureen’s face was closed but as she took the last of the folded laundry from Claire’s arms, she said, ‘Don’t mind him, he’s always been very moody – even when he was a young child,’ clearly trying to keep the same upbeat tone they had both just been enjoying. But it fell flat, and Claire didn’t know what to say. For a second, Claire thought his mum was about to say something else but then the moment passed, and Maureen turned away, her arms full of laundry, her lips pressed firmly together.

25

Stupid fucking cow!

What the hell was his mum thinking asking Claire to help her with the washing? Was she trying to make him look even more pathetic than he already was? Paul paced his bedroom floor, the dimensions of the room too small to diffuse his energy. Claire had left soon after and he didn’t blame her. What had his mum said to her? His anger intensified, and Paul felt his room was like a prison rather than a sanctuary.