‘Upset?’

‘Yes. But it’s horrible to call people names,’ I finished lamely. ‘And it’ll blow over.’

‘OK.’ He shoved his last bit of macaroni in and stood. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘After you’ve done the dishes. And’ – I took a breath – ‘told me why you were researching Nella Jackson online.’

‘Mum!’

‘Yes?’ I held his eye: I wouldn’t let him intimidate me into backing down.

‘It’s not your business.’

‘I’d say right now, everything’s my business. If you want me to back you.’

‘Want you to back me? Are you joking?’ He was furious and for a moment, looking at my son, I felt a kind of pervasive fear.

‘Of course I’m behind you, Zach, but I do need to know everything.’

‘Why?’

‘Because. I just don’t want to—’

‘What?’

‘Get caught out.’ It came out in a tumble.

‘Right.’ He turned the tap on violently for a moment, then off again. ‘I looked her up cos of her work. We’ve got the careers fair next week, and I wanted to know what TV presenters earn.’

‘Oh.’ It sounded plausible enough. Didn’t it? ‘And did you? Find out?’

‘No. Can I go now?’

‘In a rush to do hours of homework? Finish the washing-up first.’

Sighing, he banged the plates into the sink.

‘I was just thinking’ – it was even more dangerous ground, but I trod it anyway – ‘I want to ask – when you kissed Ceci…’

His back tensed. ‘Don’t wanna talk about it.’

‘Just one thing, Zachy. Was it – I mean, do you actually – like her?’

He swirled a load of Fairy liquid into the steaming water; I bit my tongue about the waste.

‘Zach?’

He dunked the plates like he was bobbing apples, placing them all sudsy on the draining board. ‘Why does it matter?’

I considered his words for a second. ‘It doesn’t, I guess. But I’d really like to know.’

‘She’s all right,’ he conceded, after a long pause. ‘No great shakes.’

‘Zach!’ I felt a small tremor of fear.

And yet I was aware there was something here I didn’t understand: some dynamic between these three kids that – perhaps – had started in the forest, that humid summer night.

And I realised now it was a conversation I needed to have with the school; about what had happened, about what had been said. I’d been naive to hope it would go undetected. But talking to the school meant Rex, and right there was a further complication.

My phone pinged: Ali. She’d be home by Wednesday, she said; had booked her seat.

Great! I texted back. I think it’s going to be OK. Just need to get Zach back on track. Can’t wait to see you, my big girl.

OK, it wasn’t great – but with the knowledge Cecilia wasn’t alleging what Willow claimed, it was so much better than I’d hoped yesterday.

I was staring at some cookery show, not seeing it, when my phone pinged: Lena, leaving me a voice note. I was surprised, to say the least.