“Don’t worry, okay?” He picked at the zip on his rucksack, not saying anything, trying to think of other things.
And then he remembered the bag of leaves he’d stuffed into the rubbish bin.
Maybe grandma staying in his room wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.
“There’s the smile I love,” his mum said, reaching for the kettle as it clicked off.
Then she said, with mock-horror, “She’s going to bring me some of her old wigs, if you can believe it.”
She rubbed her bare head with her free hand. “I’ll look like a zombie Margaret Thatcher.”
“I’m going to be late,” Conor said, eyeing the clock. “Okay, sweetheart,” she said, teetering over to kiss him on the forehead.
“You’re a good boy,” she said again. “I wish you didn’t have to be quite so good.”
As he left to head off for school, he saw her take her tea over to the kitchen window above the sink,
and when he opened the front door to leave, he heard her say, “There’s that old yew tree,” as if she was talking to herself.
SCHOOL
He could already taste the blood in his mouth as he got up. He had bitten the inside of his lip when he hit the ground,
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