At how unfair it was Jonny hadn’t taught me about rewiring when he was still here; how very selfish he’d been.

At how savagely, how deeply, how painfully I yearned for him right now – his stoicism, his sparky calm.

And now, the thing I’d dreaded all day seemed to have come to pass: my son was not all right.

And nor was I. As I’d jabbed angrily at useless YouTube to close it down, the computer’s search history came up on the screen.

Dates of the French Revolution. FA Cup results.

Nella Jackson; Nella Jackson’s CV; her net worth.

Deliveroo charges.

Melissa’s earlier words echoed in my head – ‘Nella mentioned blackmail.’

I hated myself for it, but I was beginning to doubt him.

‘Zach?’ I knocked at the bedroom door. ‘You OK, matey?’

‘G’way,’ I could just about make out the mutter.

‘I’ll put your tea on. I’m doing Grandad Glenmore’s special,’ I said. ‘Have a shower – it’ll make you feel better. See you in twenty minutes.’

‘I’m never going to school again,’ Zach said over a dinner of Trinidad doubles and macaroni pie. I was pulling all the family favourites out of the bag. ‘I’ll kill myself first.’

And that was all he’d say at first.

That morning, elated as I left the gym, I’d texted Zach to say I’d seen Melissa, that Cecilia wasn’t making a complaint. I assumed, once he saw Ceci at school, he might already know.

He hadn’t answered my text though.

Now, he didn’t seem reassured that Cecilia had told the police it was mutual.

I don’t know what I was hoping for.

Northgate High was a giant hive, thrumming with chatter and energy – or worse, a huge web – and Zach was caught right in the middle of it.

It had been all round the school by lunchtime, he said morosely. He wasn’t alone though: Zach’s best mates, Rocky and Pav and that gang, they were having none of it.

‘They know that Jackson girl’s a liar. And her stupid mates.’

But others, who hadn’t been there, who knew nothing about it, they all had a view. Willow and her little crowd had made sure of that, I imagined.

Everyone was talking about Zach.

‘Did you see Ceci?’ I asked carefully, pushing down my own anger.

‘No.’ He mopped up the last of the chickpeas; he had an appetite to match his paternal grandfather. My own dad had preferred a liquid diet. ‘She wasn’t in Maths last period.’

‘Oh?’ I frowned. ‘Where was she then?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Have you tried to speak to her? Messaged her, or—’

‘No.’ He glowered at me. ‘Why would I?’

Ah, the folly of youth.

‘Because she’s your friend.’

‘Is she?’

‘Yes! It’s not her who’s said this… thing, is it? It’s Willow.’

‘Yeah – and she’s a proper bitch.’

‘Zach!’

‘What?’ He scowled. ‘I saw her, laughing and pointing at me in the canteen with that cow Lola. I’m never going in again.’

‘Please don’t use that language. I totally get that you’re upset—’