I looked back at our house. I still had a key. My old room was still there, with my bed in it, even if Mum had her computer set up in there now too.

Gretchen didn’t like the idea of a nanny getting between her and her mother. I’d noticed that in one of the photos the nanny wore a pin from some society on her jumper. I tried to decipher it but Gretchen scoffed. She hadn’t cared. “She’s just the nanny.” Still, the photos told a different story. In the photos, she and the nanny seemed close. I’d had nannies. They were nice. Anna from Germany, and Marie from France. Anna taught me how to crack an egg, and how to cook on an Aga. Marie was retired from competitive tennis, and I spent most Marie days outside. Mum brought us lemonade and made me wear a hat. My mum was still my mum.

Briefly, I considered unlocking home and going back in time.

A car pulled up. I heard Alexandra and a friend pop out of it, spilling bright conversation. They didn’t see me, around the back of the house.

It was enough to shake me out of my sentimental mood. Going into the house wouldn’t undo being an adult.

Gretchen’s photos still floated. The framed picture glowed gold in the early winter sunset, and looked for all the world like a raft. It had drifted too far to reach with a stick, even with this long branch that had come down in the last storm. So I threw a stone at it, which smashed the glass. That bull’s-eye gave me confidence and I threw a larger one, which missed, and another, which pushed the frame perpendicular for a moment. Then it righted itself.

Something rustled in the bushes next door. Our neighbour, Mrs. Cowley, wouldn’t like me stirring things up down here. She didn’t like people around. Usually I tiptoed around her sensitivities, but now I picked up the branch. No, it couldn’t reach. But I hefted it up onto my shoulder and ran forward, releasing it like a javelin. It plunged into the water at least a metre from its target, the framed portrait. Scuttling noises retreated away toward the next house.

The lights in the ground floor of our house came on in a flash. The windows made a bright stripe across the whole building. I hadn’t noticed before that the lights hadn’t gone on as soon as Alexandra had entered.

My noise must have disturbed her. The back door banged open. “You!” she called bravely.

I waved and emerged from the trees. “Alex, it’s me.”

I expected her to be relieved. But she tensed up.

“Alex, it’s all right. It’s Nick.” My voice sounded forced. I didn’t sound like myself. She went back in without answering; the door slapped shut behind her.

As I got closer to the house, the angle of my view changed and I could see the whole of the lounge. Her companion wasn’t one of her usual girlfriends. It was a boy. He was taller than she was, so he had to be older. Most of the boys her age have yet to catch up with her. They argued. She buttoned up her blouse.

That’s what had looked so odd at the back door. Her shirt had been untucked and overlapped tightly around her, underneath her crossed arms.

I strode in. “Alexandra, won’t you introduce me to your friend?” I folded my arms across my chest.

She popped the last button in through its slit. “Gordon gave me a ride,” she said. Meaning a car. I know she meant his car.

His shirt was untucked too. He held his blazer in front of himself, draped awkwardly over his arm.

“You can go now,” I said to him.

He tried to get a cue from Alexandra. She shook her head and lifted her shoulders. I stepped between them. “Now!” I said.

When Alexandra turned to watch him drive away, I saw that her shirt had two lumps at the back where the ends of her bra were undone and poked up.

I took her blazer from the couch and handed it to her.

“Is there a problem?” she demanded, putting her arms into the sleeves.

“How old is he?”

“None of your business!”

“You’re fourteen!”

She feigned shock. “Oh my God, you’re right! Better change my nappy and put me down for an afternoon sleep!”

She ran upstairs. The stair railing rattled.

I sat down on the bottom step. After a few minutes I was calm. I went up and tapped lightly on her door. She didn’t answer. I opened it anyway.

She sat cross-legged on her bed. Her teddies were lined up behind her against the headboard. The duvet was neat underneath her. Mum must make her bed up; I know Alex wouldn’t be bothered.

“I’m sorry that I embarrassed you,” I said.

She looked at me with red eyes. “I don’t forgive you.”

I nodded. I didn’t expect her to.

“It’s only that-”

“No! Don’t tell me! I’m too young, right? And boys only want one thing? It’s not like we came up to my room. We were just messing about.”

She still slept with bears and plush ponies. A boy didn’t belong on this bed.

“Don’t tell Mum,” she begged.

I promised.

“And get out of my room.”

I did. I shut the door so that it clicked.

The house phone rang. She snatched up her extension.

“Hello… Oh, I’m sorry,” she said loudly enough to be clear to me. “He’s not allowed to talk to girls!” She hung up with an angry beep and threw the handset at the door.

“Who was it?” I demanded through the door.

“Some slag for you. Don’t you know they want only one thing?”

Had the caller been Liv? Why would she call this number? Maybe it was Polly?

Polly wouldn’t know this number either. Or think that I was here. Or want to speak to me.

She’d literally recoiled from me. Not just from me going too far, but then from me trying to help, trying to apologise, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She’d run away from me.

And soon Liv would tell her where I’d ended up from there.

I leaned against Alexandra’s door.

The phone rang again. Alexandra let it ring. I dashed downstairs to the extension in the lounge. “Polly?”

It was Mum. “Oh, Nick! Are you staying for dinner?”

I said no. Mum was disappointed. But if I stayed Alexandra would refuse to join us, or she’d sit with us but not eat. She’d find a way to protest my presence, silently daring me to tell on her, and promising hate forever if I did. It wasn’t worth it. Not tonight.

Mum said she’d be home soon, so I left Alexandra by herself. On the way out, I picked up a thick fallen branch and sent it sailing toward the neighbours’ fence. The wooden slats rattled when it hit. I was tired of looking after people. I was tired of working ’round everyone’s delicate feelings. Our neighbour, Mrs. Cowley, was frightened by sudden noises, by any token of our existence, really; but what if I wanted to throw something? What about my feelings?

I didn’t relax until I pushed in the heavy oak door of a pub.

By the time Richard Keene walked in I was past thinking clearly. He was with Alice. They would be married soon. I acted like it was my first drink. It wasn’t anywhere near that.

“Working hard?” Richard asked. Because he was my supervisor. I didn’t look like I’d been working.

I shook my head.

“Good,” he said, drinking. “It’s good to take a break.”

I should have talked to him. Alice said she’d be right back; we had the privacy. I could have told him everything that troubled me.

“I have to go,” I said, but I didn’t move.

“I have to go,” I repeated, to prod myself. I turned.

He said, “Wait,” I think, but then Alice came back. He stood up, and I got away.

I felt breathless outside, like I’d escaped something. Ludicrous. Richard’s a good friend. I started to walk in small circles in front of the pub, convinced it would sober me up. I actually made myself go back in. They didn’t see me. They were looking at each other. I thought, Right, some friend he turned out to be.

I pushed between several chairs and put my fist on their table. “You want to talk? All right, I’ll talk.” They looked shocked. I was shocked myself. What could I say? About Liv? About Gretchen? What could I say about anyone that wouldn’t make it worse for them, not being wholly mine to share?