Wearily, Mac propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested his cheek on his fist. ‘I never tried to cut you out and, anyway, she was not interested in me. That was probably why I trash-talked her. She overheard, prompting that quarrel you mentioned recently.’

Grady felt as if he were being sucked back in time to the teenage world of hidden hopes, in-crowds and loners, alliances, enemies and half-understood politics. Kids bullshitting to make everyone think they knew more than they did. Mac had bullshitted more than most and Grady had never suspected him of feeling anything for Laurel, nor caught on to the consequences. Had he floated around in his own self-absorbed bubble? ‘Why did Amie hate her?’ he prompted.

Mac grimaced. ‘Maybe she knew I’d rather be with Laurel. She used to make out Laurel was disgusting for being—’ he paused, as if hunting for an acceptable term ‘—well-endowed. Used to call her “ugly hooters” and “fat puddings”.’

‘You didn’t just tell Amie to shut her face?’ Grady snapped.

Slowly, Mac shook his head. ‘I should have. But Amie was my girlfriend and …’ He blew out a disgusted breath. ‘No, no excuses. I knew it was wrong but Laurel didn’t want me and Amie did. That kind of put me on Amie’s side.’ He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. ‘That night, four of us were drinking cider on the playing field.’

‘You, Amie, Ruben and … who? Jonny?’ Grady guessed, knowing who Mac had hung out with back then.

Mac nodded without opening his eyes. ‘We had an armload of two-litre bottles so I was pretty drunk. Then along came Laurel, walking home from the village hall. Amie started bitching at her and maybe we laughed.’ He corrected himself. ‘We laughed. When she was nearly past, Amie jumped up and grabbed her coat. It came partway down and trapped her arms. She shouted at Amie and tried to kick her.’

He opened his eyes and sat up, settling a bleak gaze on Grady. ‘Amie was like one of those nasty Jack Russells that doesn’t seem to realise it’s small. It just sets on people. So—’ he paused to take a swallow of beer ‘—Amie yelled to me to hold her.’ The look he sent Grady was an agony of apology and regret. ‘I was half-drunk. I didn’t think, “What? Me, a bigger, older bloke, restrain a girl who hasn’t done anything wrong?” I just went, “Durr, OK, Amie. I’ll do that for you.”’ His voice mimicked a dopey cartoon character. Neither of them laughed.