Dawson spied Geoffrey sitting on a hard bench in the main reception beneath a Last Supper tapestry.

His backpack rested at his feet, an exercise book balanced on his knees and a textbook open on the bench beside him.

‘Hey, you wouldn’t be more comfortable in your room?’ Dawson asked, sitting down.

Geoffrey smiled and then shook his head. ‘I don’t spend too much time in there,’ he said. ‘Not unless I have to.’

‘The Library?’ Dawson asked, as Geoffrey just caught the exercise book before it slipped from his knees.

He shook his head. ‘I like it here,’ he said.

Dawson thought he could understand why. Students and teachers were moving back and forth through the space, all going somewhere else, all focused on what they were heading towards. No one even glanced in their direction.

Dawson smiled. ‘Jeez, you remind me of me,’ he said.

Geoffrey looked at him disbelievingly. ‘No, I don’t think…’

‘I was in my fourth year of high school, fifteen, and I weighed sixteen stone,’ he said, recalling the day he’d seen the scales hit that particular marker.

Geoffrey guffawed and for the first time looked like the twelve-year-old boy he was. ‘No way.’

‘Honest,’ he admitted. ‘I liked my food. A lot. My mum wasn’t one for healthy cooking, and I didn’t much like exercise.’

‘How’d you get like this?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘I realised I wasn’t happy with me. Some rougher kids befriended me, and I was grateful, but they only did it because they were planning on doing something bad and knew I’d be the one that got caught. I couldn’t run as fast as they could.’

‘And did you get caught?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dawson said. But his memories were not of the police or even his parents. They were still of the poor old woman that fell to the ground when the rest of the group ran off with her handbag.

‘So, what did you do, stop eating?’ Geoffrey asked, dolefully.

Dawson smiled. Food had been his best friend too. ‘No, I started going to the gym. I decided I wanted to change my body for me. Not because of other people but because I wanted to get fitter. I wanted to be able to do more before getting out of breath or starting to sweat. But I did it for me, Geoffrey. Not for some idiots who thought it was funny to call me names.’

‘What were the teachers like at your school?’ Geoffrey asked.

Not like Havers, he almost said. ‘Some were okay, some were crap.’

‘Did they make fun of you, too?’

The question hit him somewhere in the gut.

‘Not intentionally,’ he said, honestly. ‘But they sometimes left me out of stuff, assumed I couldn’t do it because of my size. That hurt a bit.’

‘I wish Havers would leave me out,’ Geoffrey said.

He didn’t like the guy but he had a job to do. ‘He has to involve you in the lessons, mate,’ Dawson said, surprised to find himself defending the man.

Geoffrey shook his head. ‘Not the lessons. I get that. He’s chosen me to ring the bell on Saturday night.’

‘Ring the bell?’ Dawson asked.

‘At the gala that’s now a memorial service. The bell rings three times to signal the opening of the show.’

‘And Havers has asked you to do it?’ Dawson asked. Seemed like a bit of an honour to be asked, and he’d thought Havers didn’t like Geoffrey that much.

‘Yes, he said the hundred-and-fifty-step climb will shed a few ounces.’

Dawson had to clench his fist. He should have known.

There was so much he wanted to say to this kid about the man being a total dick and not even worth his time but once this investigation was over he would leave and never see Havers again. Geoffrey would not.

‘I don’t cry, you know,’ he said, quietly. ‘Not any more.’

Dawson felt something cracking inside him. He said nothing.

‘I used to but I’m twelve now. Almost grown up.’

‘Hey,’ Dawson said, clearing his throat. ‘No need to be rushing these years away, and it’s no sin to cry,’ he advised.

‘So, did they stop?’ Geoffrey asked, looking up at him. ‘The kids, did they stop bullying you when you lost weight?’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Either they did, or I stopped hearing them. It didn’t matter because I was happy with myself. I felt I was achieving something, so I didn’t care anymore.’

Dawson could see he had the kid’s interest.

‘Listen, I go to Pump Gym in Brierley Hill. They’ve got a cracking swimming pool too. I’ll be there Sunday morning about ten. It’s open hour for new members. Come and have a look and see if you like it.’

‘I got a card,’ Geoffrey said, quietly, staring down at his exercise book.

‘A card?’ he asked, confused.

‘Ace of spades,’ Geoffrey clarified. ‘Shaun’s death left a space,’ Geoffrey continued. ‘And they want me to join.’

‘Do you want to?’ Dawson asked.

Being part of an elite group of powerful kids had to be appealing to the child who seemed to get shit from most pupils and even some of the teachers.

Being a Spade would offer Geoffrey protection from the bullying and the taunting. It would certainly make his life at Heathcrest easier. It was not unlike his own situation. He had joined that group thinking it would improve his life.

‘So, why?’

‘It’s because of my mum,’ he said, flatly. ‘She won an important case this week. She was on the news.’

Dawson could hear the pride in his voice.

‘But that’s why they want me,’ he said. ‘Nothing to do with me. It’s because of my mum.’

Dawson tried to put himself in Geoffrey’s position. Away from home, on his own, being bullied and taunted.

‘Maybe it’s not such a bad—’

‘I told them no,’ he said, as a bell sounded along the hallway.

‘Why’s that?’ Dawson asked, feeling his admiration for this kid grow.

‘It’s not the kind of club I want to join,’ he said, collecting his books together. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to head off…’

‘No problem,’ Dawson said, watching him amble away.

Dawson silently applauded the boy’s strength of character in not taking the easy way out of a difficult situation.

He only hoped the kid didn’t live to regret it.