A long pause.

Hand on the door, I was about to give up when he spoke, his voice low, his eyes on the dashboard.

‘Maybe Willow got to her.’

‘What do you mean?’ I inhaled sharply. ‘In what sense?’

‘She’s like that, Willow. Very…’ He stopped, chewed his nail a bit more.

‘Very what, Zach?’

Now he fiddled with his shirt cuff. His one decent shirt, bought for his grandma Gloria’s seventieth last year. It had been more suitable for the police interview than his usual uniform of Champion and Nike, but it was already on the tight side. He was slim, but he’d grown recently; his shoulders were filling out; he was beginning to be shaped more like a man.

‘I – I dunno.’

A boy, turning into a man – possibly about to stand trial for sexually assaulting his friend.

‘Matey.’ I tried to mask my absolute terror. ‘It’d be really great if you can try to help me understand—’

‘I dunno, Mum. All I know is Willow and her little click were, like, pretty weird about Cecilia.’

‘Clique?’

‘Yeah. Lola and that lot. They don’t like Ces much. Don’t – get her. Though it’s…’ He glanced at me now.

‘What?’ I felt almost excited: like I was finally getting some information that I needed, like something might actually add up now.

‘Pretty fake. That click. Like, Willow’s loaded. She always has cash.’

‘So, what? You mean she’s bribing them?’

‘Dunno.’ He frowned. ‘S’pose. Like, buys them loads of stuff in the canteen.’

‘So you’re saying she paid Cecilia?’ I was appalled. ‘Surely not.’

‘I don’t know, Mum,’ he snapped, hand on the door. ‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore.’

‘It’s going to be all right, Zachy,’ I said, with far more conviction than I felt. ‘It’ll be fine.’

He was out of the van already and into the stairwell.

I sat for a second, head back, staring at the tiny fissures in the grey fabric ceiling. Like the cracks in my heart, I thought wistfully.

I had never wished more violently that Jonny was still here.

Around 4 p.m., leaving Zach watching YouTube on his bed, I popped to the shop alone.

I needed some air; to think; to plan. I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet about it all – because it was so terrible, who could I tell? Only Ali, and her phone was off. Only Ali, right now, I felt, would get it. I’d rather eat my own tongue than ring either my sister or mother.

And Melissa? She was dead to me now; had to be, in the circumstances.

‘I got some Mango Rubicon,’ I called, walking back in twenty minutes later, ‘and some Monster Munch.’

What was I doing though? Treating him like an invalid, when he might be a… a criminal?

There was no answer.

‘Zach?’ I dumped the bags in the kitchen. ‘Where are you?’

His bedroom was empty, phone on the bed. So was the bathroom.

Back in the lounge, I stood, hands on hips, thinking.