‘Ged, time to get up. The minibus will be here in half an hour. You need to be up and ready or you’ll miss your lift. Mr Knight has already told you they won’t wait and I’ve not got money for bus fares, so move it.’ She hovered over him, hands ragging through her hair, dreading another day of arguing. Ged stirred, dragged the duvet over his head and groaned.

‘Nah, I’m not going in today. I don’t feel well. Just ring them and tell them not to bother coming for me.’

Here they were again, another day in paradise. Clare stormed across the room and yanked the curtains open; a bright yellow light filled the room. She pushed the window open too, letting in the bitter cold from outside. She’d freeze him out of bed if he thought he was lying in his pit all day long.

‘Not a chance, Ged. This is the last chance saloon for you and if you lose your place at this school nobody else will have you. You’re sixteen – time to stop mucking about. No wonder you’re tired when you’re playing on that daft bleeding game all night long. I swear, if you’re not out of that bed in five minutes I’ll throw that sodding Xbox right out the window. Don’t test me, Ged, because I mean it. Right out the window and then I’ll stamp on it.’ This was a code red, his Xbox was his world. He flung the duvet onto the floor and bolted up from the bed with a face on him. Always angry. But then Clare was a hothead too and when she said she was going to do something, she meant it. She would have smashed it into a thousand pieces without a shadow of doubt, just to prove a point.

He raised his arms, protesting. ‘Mam, I hate this school. I don’t learn nothing anyway. What’s the point, it’s shit?’

Clare ignored him, marched across the bedroom picking up dirty clothes from the floor. Typical teenager. The room was a tip, stank of sweaty feet. ‘It’s your own fault you have to go there. What did you expect when you hit a teacher? Did you think they’d say, “Oh, Ged, it doesn’t matter that you assaulted one of our staff, come back tomorrow and we can start again”?’

Ged hated it when his mother used that sarky tone. He made a face and dug his hands down the front of his boxers. ‘The man was a dickhead. Anyway, he started it when he pushed me up against the wall, what did you want me to do? He had it coming.’