‘You’re wrong,’ she said firmly. ‘I am Mark’s teacher and I’m concerned about his welfare. Anything about him concerns me, especially his suffering.’

‘What do you know about his suffering?’

‘Only what he’s trying to tell me without words. I rely on you to tell me the rest. What exactly did she do that entitles you to airbrush her out of existence?’

But he wouldn’t explain, she could see. His face had closed against her.

It was her own fault, she realised. What had she been thinking of to have lost her temper?

She took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. He seemed to be doing much the same for there was a silence. Turning, she saw that he was at the window with his back to her.

He was a tall man, well over six foot, and leanly built with broad shoulders which were emphasised by the way he was standing. When he left the window and began to stride about the room she was struck by how graceless he was. There was strength there, muscle, power, but nothing gentle or yielding.

Heaven help the person who really gets on his wrong side, Evie thought. He’d be pitiless. What kind of life does that poor child have?

When he spoke it was with an exasperated sigh, suggesting that he was doing his best with this awkward woman, but it was very difficult.

‘This is getting us nowhere,’ he said. ‘I accept that you came here with the best of intentions, and I’m glad to know about his misbehaviour. But your job is done now, and I suggest you leave it there.’

She lost her temper again. She couldn’t help it. This man was a machine for making her angry.

‘My job is not done as long as you’re talking about Mark’s “misbehaviour”. He is not misbehaving. His mother’s dead, his father’s trying to pretend she never existed. He is miserable, unhappy, wretched, lonely, and that should be your priority. Am I getting through?’