I know what this is really about. Pamela Stewart’s father managed to secure her an early interview at Oxford. And if his business rival has a successful daughter, then so must my father. It wouldn’t do to fail on that score. So the pressure on me has ramped up, but I’m sure he’ll lose interest again soon enough when he realises I am a lost cause.

Martha is in a bit of a flurry around us. There must be an important dinner at the house tonight. I’ll be told to make myself scarce, of course. I’ll just sneak a bottle of something up to the attic and read in peace. Actually, maybe I should invite Tracey over. They won’t notice she is here.

Father pats the side of his mouth with a napkin and I think he is done. I’m about to push back my chair, but he was only taking a breath. I wait patiently.

The truth is I would love to go to Oxford, maybe study English literature or consider a career in journalism, something like that. But I would never tell him that. He wants another lawyer in the family or, failing that, a stockbroker or investment banker, someone with a high-paying city job like his. But his job doesn’t seem much fun to me.

Finally, he stops talking. I look up and I’m about to say that I’d happily work harder if it means I can go to Oxford to study English when he picks up his newspaper and obscures his disapproval with the headlines. He hasn’t asked me about school per se or how things are going.

I pick up my bowl and rise from the table, leaving without a word. I haven’t said anything to him apart from, “Morning, Father.” He hasn’t noticed my silence.

Martha is at the kitchen sink, washing a large vase.

I set the bowl down on the counter next to her. “Thanks, Martha, I’m heading out to school.”

“But you’ve hardly eaten anything! Can I make you something else?”

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry. See you later though.” I turn to go, then ask over my shoulder, “I guess there’s something on tonight?”

“Yes, a dinner, your father’s partners and their wives.” She looks at me with such pity that I feel like bursting into tears on the spot, but instead I swallow and nod, before heading out through the back door and down the garden.

I open the gate past the pool house and step out onto the path. The sky is a menacing grey today, the clouds rolling as much as the waves below, matching my mood like a co-ordinated outfit. I walk along, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, my head bowed. I have loads of time before school starts, but I just needed to be out of there.