‘Take it a bit slower and get it right,’ she often told him, although she was pleased by his eagerness.

But out of class he seemed to collapse back into himself, often becoming surly.

No, she thought now. Unhappy.

She slowed down and tooted her horn. The boy turned swiftly, glaring, but then smiling as he recognised the goggled, helmeted figure pulling up beside him.

‘’lo, Miss Wharton.’

She uncovered her head. ‘Hallo, Mark. Had a busy day?’

‘Yes, I’ve been-’ He stopped, reading the irony in her eyes and gave up. ‘I didn’t exactly come to school.’

‘What did you do-exactly?’

He shrugged, implying that he neither remembered nor cared.

‘It’s not the first time you’ve played truant,’ she said, trying not to sound like a nag.

Again the shrug.

‘Where do you live?’

‘Hanfield Avenue.’

‘You’ve wandered quite a way. How are you going to get home?’

Shrug.

‘Wanna lift?’ She indicated the bike.

He beamed. ‘Really?’

‘As long as you wear this,’ she said, removing her helmet.

He donned it eagerly and she checked that it was secure.

‘But now you don’t have a helmet,’ he said.

‘That’s why I’m going to go very slowly and carefully. Now, get up behind and hold on to me tightly.’

When she felt him grip her she eased away from the kerb. It took half an hour to reach his home, which was in a prosperous, tree-lined street, full of detached houses that exuded wealth. She swung through the gates and up the drive to the front door, mentally preparing what she would say to Mark’s parents, who would be home by now, and worried.

But the woman who opened the door looked too old to be his mother. Her eyes were like saucers as she saw his mode of transport.

‘What on earth-?’

‘Hallo, Lily,’ Mark said, climbing off the bike.

‘What do you mean, coming home at this hour? And on this thing?’ She glanced sharply at Evie. ‘And who are you?’