‘Hey, Ivy, wait!’

Tom calls out behind me and I spin around. ‘What?’

He looks at me with an odd expression on his face – a mixture of expectation, bewilderment and hurt. I wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands on his hips, his hair ruffled and blown by the wind.

‘You’re going? No goodbye or …’

So that’s what this is about. He wants me to thank him, even though we both know it was an empty gesture. There’s no way he could hold down a job anywhere else.

‘Thank you. Is that better?’

‘What? No.’

A gust of wind blows rain into my face and I drop my bag to pull on my coat when I hear a splash. My rucksack is lying in a dirty brown puddle, the once-cream canvas rapidly turning the same colour as the day I’m having.

Way to go, universe.

My shoulders slump and I think about retrieving the bag when Tom bounds over. He lifts it up, now dripping wet, and presents it to me with an exaggerated bow. ‘My lady.’

I snatch it from him and his eyes fill with reproach. Why am I being so horrible? None of this is his fault, and he didn’t have to take my side just now.

‘I’m sorry, Tom. I’m just having a bad day.’

‘Want to get a coffee and tell me about it?’

I shake my head and look away. I wouldn’t know how to explain about my mum and everything, even if I tried. ‘It was kind of you to stick up for me, but you may as well go back inside.’

He frowns at the glass exit doors. ‘No. Uncle Mike’s crossed a line this time. I’ve seen the way he leers at you and the girls in the café and gift shop. The guy’s a creep. I’m embarrassed to be related to the cockwomble.’

We’ve moaned about Mr Neeson plenty of times – all the staff here do – but I’ve never heard Tom sound so resolutely angry before. Or use the word cockwomble. It makes me wonder how he’d react if he knew what our boss is really like; how it isn’t just his eyes that wander.

Tom balls up his fists. ‘If he wasn’t my uncle, I’d …’

‘You’d what?’

‘Well, I’d do something.’

I open my mouth to tell him how reassuring that sounds, when he grips my shoulder. ‘You want to know what I’d do if anyone tried to hurt you?’ He searches my face and then whispers, ‘I’d hold your coat for you while you beat them up.’

‘Very funny.’

He kicks at the gravel. ‘Seriously, though, Ivy, I’m done with this place. Besides, there’s no point coming into work if you’re not here to annoy.’

‘Well, you do have a talent for it. And you of all people can’t afford to waste talent.’

‘Hey, I’ve got skills. I’m good at … um.’ He scratches his head. ‘Damn it, I nearly had something.’ He sees my smile and grins. ‘So what will you do now?’