Once again, Olivia retrieved her bike and cycled up the hill back to her house. She had a while before Zac returned which, she thought, would be enough time to have a proper search.

She went upstairs and opened the door. Even in the twilight of half-drawn curtains Olivia could see the room was in a disgraceful state; clothes littered the floor, schoolbooks, DVDs and papers were strewn over the surfaces, the bed was unmade and there were half a dozen dirty mugs sitting on shelves and the bookcase and near his computer. Olivia picked her way through the mess and threw the curtains fully open and then followed suit with the windows. She turned and looked at the room now it was bathed in light. It was as if Amy had never had a go at it. She shuddered.

Where, she wondered, would a teenage boy hide stuff? She had a rethink. Where would she hide stuff? She began by pulling each one of his drawers open and checking right at the back and under everything. Nothing. She wasn’t too fussed about leaving signs that she had moved his stuff, had a good rummage – how the hell would he tell, given the overall state of his room? She checked under the mattress, behind every book on his bookshelf, inside all of his shoes in his wardrobe, in the pockets of all his clothes hanging up... Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Olivia sat on the bed. So – maybe Amy was lying and Heather had been taken in. But she still had that niggle that all was not right with Zac. He’d been far more difficult than any of his siblings, he was moody, some of his outbursts were unreasonable, the room constantly smelt of that revolting body spray and yet, when she thought about it, he didn’t. If he was smoking pot in his room he had to be doing it out of the window. She crossed the floor and peered out at the patio below. No dog-ends were visible. But then Zac wasn’t stupid.

Olivia went downstairs, out of the French doors and pushed back the plants from the edge of the herbaceous border. Bingo. There, on the earth, was a half-smoked roll-up. She picked it up and sniffed it. Old and slightly soggy from recent rain it smelt of nothing except stale ash but she was pretty certain she knew what she was looking at. She might have been Miss Goody-Two-Shoes at uni but she hadn’t gone around with her eyes shut. Of course there was no proof that it was Zac’s but it certainly wasn’t hers or Nigel’s.

She returned to Zac’s room and sat on the bed again. She still had few minutes. Think! Mindlessly, she stared at the carpet. There was an indentation left in the pile from the dressing table being moved about half an inch. Why? Why would anyone move the furniture?

Olivia stood up, grabbed it and tugged. It moved, reluctantly, over the thick carpet until it was about six inches from the wall. Olivia peered down the back. Yuck – it was filthy along the skirting board. And, eureka, there were a couple of resealable plastic bags, a packet of Rizlas and a disposable lighter. Olivia leaned against the wall. She felt disgusted and betrayed. How could he?

Her husband was a gambling addict and her son was a junkie. Her world was falling apart and what had she done to deserve it?

*

Zac had had a shit day at school. All the staff had had a go at him about his course work – like he cared about it or them, come to that – but he didn’t want the teachers on his back. They kept saying bullshit, like his parents didn’t pay out all that money in fees to see him plough his GCSEs. Well, if he was going to end up at a dump like the comp, what did it matter? Only he couldn’t say that, because it was too humiliating to have to admit to them that his dad was such a loser. Ha! Loser. Wasn’t he, though – in every sense of the word.

Zac got off the bus, swung his schoolbag over his shoulder and loped across the road and headed for his home. What he needed was a joint. That’d calm him down. He scrunched up the drive and unlocked the front door. His mother was sitting on the sofa, looking like she was waiting for him.

‘Good, Zac, you’re home. We need to talk.’

Shit, this was all he needed. No, he didn’t want to talk to her. He’d had a rubbish day and now he wanted to chill.

‘Not now, I’m going to my room. I’ve had a crap day and I’m not in the mood.’

‘Frankly, I don’t give a toss what sort of day you’ve had, we need to talk.’

Zac stopped in his tracks, startled by his mother’s tone of voice. Had the school phoned her about his work? He wouldn’t put it past them, the bastards.

Then he saw what she was holding in her hands, holding out for him to see. Oh, Jesus, she’d found his stash. He felt bile rising in his throat and swallowed down the sour taste. Maybe he could brazen this out.

‘What’s that, Mum?’ He dropped into an armchair and sprawled, trying to look casual, uncaring.

‘I’m not sure. I’ve had a look on the internet and I think this one might be skunk,’ she shook one of the bags, ‘and this one ketamine. Or do you call it Special K?’

Zac shrugged. ‘Dunno what you’re talking about.’

Olivia stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. ‘Don’t,’ she said, a dangerous hiss in her voice, ‘don’t you dare lie to me.’

Zac was shaken. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘From behind your dressing table, where you’d hidden it.’

‘I can explain,’ he blustered, sitting up straighter.

‘I very much doubt it.’

His mother dropped the packets on the coffee table and wiped her fingers on her trousers like she’d been contaminated.

‘Those bags... they’re Ashley’s,’ he blurted.

‘Really? So why is his stuff in our house? Hardly handy when you want a quick spliff, is it?’ She picked up an object from the table that he hadn’t spotted – a roach. ‘I found this in the flower bed, under your window.’

Zac remembered the time he’d almost got caught out and chucked it out the window instead of disposing of it in the gutter above his window. The one time he hadn’t been careful. Bollocks.

‘Ashley hasn’t been round here for months,’ said his mother. She gave him a look of utter disdain. ‘It seems to me that not only are you a junkie and an utter waste of space but a liar as well.’ She leaned over to eyeball her son, towering over him, making him feel vulnerable and scared. ‘You disgust me, do you know that?’

Zac tried another attempt to push back. ‘That’s rich, coming from someone married to a loser like Dad.’

‘Don’t! Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Yes, he may have made mistakes recently but how the hell do you think we ended up living in a house like this and with you at a private school? Huh?’ She glowered at him. ‘Tell me that. Whereas you... you are blowing money you have never earned on a habit you can’t afford.’

Zac was tempted to point out to his mother that his father’s habit had turned into an unaffordable one but he didn’t quite have the balls.

‘So,’ continued his mother, ‘how do you afford it?’

‘My allowance,’ he mumbled.

His mum eyeballed him again. ‘And this month I stopped it.’

‘I’d saved some.’ He couldn’t meet her eye.

‘You’re telling me you haven’t been pinching money from my purse, then?’

‘Course not.’

His mother returned to the sofa and flopped down. ‘Why don’t I believe a word you say?’

Silence fell for a few seconds, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Zac wondered how his mother had suddenly decided to go through his things. What had prompted it? He was burning up with curiosity. If she knew about his drugs, what else did she know? Did she know how badly he was doing at school? For his peace of mind he needed an answer or two.

He raised his eyes and stared at his mother. She was gazing at the ceiling – a look of despair on her face. Some primeval sixth sense must have told her she was being watched because, wearily, she turned to face him.

‘How...?’ he started.

‘How what?’ she snapped.

‘How did you know there were drugs in my room?’

‘I didn’t, but it seems half the town seems to think you’ve got a habit and once I’d been let into the secret I decided to see if they were right or not.’

‘Who? Who knew?’

‘Amy, Heather.’

‘Amy?’ Zac was shocked. ‘Did Ashley tell her?’

‘I have no idea. So, he’s another one in the know, is he? Who else, I wonder?’ But it was said to herself. There was a pause. ‘But not me.’ His mother sighed. ‘What else don’t I know?’ She sounded on the brink of tears but Zac wasn’t fussed about his mother’s misery; he wanted to have a word with Ashley. How dare he blab to his mum? How dare he?

He stood up and went towards the front door.

‘Oh no,’ said his mother. ‘You’re not going anywhere, you’re gated.’

‘Says who?’ He opened the door.

‘Zac!’

But if his mother had anything else to say on the subject it was lost behind the slammed door.

*

Rage seethed inside Zac as he stormed down the road. He was going to have it out with Ash – he was going to punch Ash’s lights out and Ash had it coming.

It took him fifteen minutes to get to Ashley’s house on the estate at the other end of town.

‘Come out here, you bastard,’ Zac yelled as he hammered on the front door. He pushed the bell several times and then hammered again. He stared at the closed windows. ‘Are you in there? I want a word with you.’

A woman pushing a pram crossed over the road and shot nervous glances in Zac’s direction.

‘Oi, Ash.’

But the house remained silent and the front door closed. In frustration Zac hit the door hard with his fist and immediately wished he hadn’t. As he walked away he rubbed his knuckles.

He headed for the skatepark – maybe Ashley was hanging out there. He loped through the gates and headed for the rear of the public space, passing mothers and kids picnicking on the grass in the warm sun. He spotted his quarry and broke into a run. Ash was standing beside one of the ramps as Zac approached. He had his back to him as he watched a kid trying to do a kickflip. He had no idea that his nemesis was heading his way.

Zac grabbed Ashley by his T-shirt which ripped.

‘Hey...’ said Ashley as he spun round.

‘You shit,’ he yelled at Ashley as he threw a punch.

Despite being caught completely unawares, some instinctive self-preservation kicked in and Ashley ducked as Zac’s fist flashed forwards. It caught his ear but no worse than that.

‘Zac?’ Ashley jumped backwards, nearly losing his footing as his heel connected with the edge of the ramp. He stumbled and recovered himself as Zac closed in again. But the surprise had been lost.

Zac swiped a punch again but Ashley dodged it easily and grabbed Zac’s fist. The pair wrestled as Zac tried to get out of Ashley’s grasp. Pound for pound they were well matched but Ashley was leaner and fitter. The kids on the ramps had stopped their tricks and antics and were gathering to watch the fight. A group began chanting Ashley’s name, siding with him, which riled Zac even more. He threw another uncoordinated punch. Again Ashley dodged it before he hooked his right fist upwards which connected with Zac’s chin. Pain jagged through Zac as he felt his teeth rattle and tasted a ferrous tang in his mouth. He wiped his hand across his lips and saw blood. ‘What have you told your mum?’ he growled.

‘About what?’

‘You know what.’

‘I’ve got no idea.’

‘Me, smoking weed.’ Zac circled Ashley, like a cat after a pigeon, working out where best to strike.

‘You’re kidding me, right? Why would I do that?’

‘Because you wanted to get at me cos I’m richer than you. Because you’re jealous. Because you’re a sick loser who wants to ruin other people’s lives. Because you could.’

‘Fuck off, Zac.’

That did it. Zac stormed forwards, fists flailing, no direction, no game plan, just energy and rage. Ashley ducked under the fists and landed a punch in his solar plexus. The air whooshed out of Zac’s lungs. He doubled up and tried to breathe in again but he’d been winded. He whooped and wheezed but the air wouldn’t come. He felt panic rising. He collapsed to his knees and put his hands on the ground in front of him as he tried to inhale. His head swam and for a second he wondered if this was it. He’d never felt so scared in his life. The seconds ticked by as he tried to haul air in but he could only manage pathetic gasps. The panic rose as he thought he was going to die.

Then suddenly his diaphragm recovered and he was able to draw in a juddering, whooping lungful of air. He rolled sideways onto the ground, clutching his aching guts, not caring he looked defeated, not caring he’d lost the fight. He was just grateful to be alive.

*

Ashley looked at Zac on the ground. What had he done? Had he really injured him? His emotions were a mixture of fear and hatred. Right now he’d never hated Zac more but what if he’d done something really appalling? What if he was really hurt? Dying? God, he didn’t want to go to prison. But then Zac stopped gasping ineffectually and Ashley saw him take in a breath and the colour return to his face. Winded – that was all. He’d just been winded. Ash sagged with relief but then his hatred for Zac returned. That shit had frightened the crap out of him, on top of having a go at him. Zac rolled onto his side, clutching his stomach. Serve him right.

He glanced again at Zac, still rolling on the ground, still pretending he was hurt worse than he was, still making a meal of it, and then he saw the local copper heading towards them. Time to go. Ashley raced off across the grass.

*

‘Right then, what’s all this about?’

Zac had no idea who this woman was who was talking to him and he didn’t care. He was still concentrating on his breathing and the pain in his stomach from the last punch.

‘You all right, sonny?’

Zac coughed.

‘Should I call an ambulance?’

‘No...no,’ he mumbled, gasping like a landed fish. He opened his eyes. Shit, a copper. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Doesn’t look like it to me.’

Zac managed to sit up. ‘I’m fine,’ he repeated. He was trying to convince himself because he felt far from fine.

‘What was the fight about?’

‘Nothing.’

The policewomen sat on the ground beside him. ‘Yeah, right. Someone got a grudge against you?’

‘No.’

‘So what’s your name?’

‘Zac.’

‘Where do you live, Zac?’

Zac was tempted to say ‘none of your business’ but he didn’t think that would be wise when dealing with the law. ‘The other end of town.’

‘You going to be all right getting back?’

‘Yeah.’ Not that he was going to go back yet. The last thing he wanted was another earful from his mum.

‘Off you go then.’

‘In a minute.’

Zac staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the bench where he sat down heavily. He felt dreadful. His head throbbed, his lip was swollen, his stomach caned and he’d been humiliated by Ashley. Life was a pile of crud. He leaned back on the bench and shut his eyes. The policewoman sat beside him and Zac couldn’t think of a polite way of telling her to get lost so he sat, in silence, and hoped boredom, or someone needing her assistance more than he did, would rescue him. As the seconds ticked by, neither materialised. Eventually Zac glanced at his watch.

‘I’ll be off home in a minute.’

‘OK,’ responded the constable getting up. ‘You going to be all right on your own?’

Zac nodded. ‘Yeah, I got a bit winded. I’m fine now.’

‘Go carefully then. And no more fighting.’ The constable went, leaving Zac on the bench.