‘And you knew about Kirk O’Bane.’

‘Who?’

‘Kirk O’Bane.’

‘The footballer?’

‘Except I don’t think he can be a footballer. Ellie was making one of those jokes that you make.’

‘But his first name’s Kirk?’

‘I think so.’

‘Kurt Cobain, you jerk.’

‘Who’s Kurt Cobain?’

‘The singer with Nirvana.’

‘I thought he must be a singer. Bleached hair? Looks a bit like Jesus?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘There you are, then,’ said Marcus triumphantly. ‘You knew about him, too.’

‘Everyone knows about him.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘No, you didn’t. But you’re different, Marcus.’

‘And my mum wouldn’t.’

‘No, she wouldn’t either.’

‘You see, you know things. You can help.’

It was then, for the first time, that Will saw the kind of help Marcus needed. Fiona had given him the idea that Marcus was after a father figure, someone to guide him gently towards male adulthood, but that wasn’t it at all: Marcus needed help to be a kid, not an adult. And, unhappily for Will, that was exactly the kind of assistance he was qualified to provide. He wasn’t able to tell Marcus how to grow up, or how to cope with a suicidal mother, or anything like that, but he could certainly tell him that Kurt Cobain didn’t play for Manchester United, and for a twelve-year-old boy attending a comprehensive school at the end of 1993, that was maybe the most important information of all.

Marcus went back to school the following morning. Nobody seemed to have noticed that he hadn’t been around the previous afternoon: his form teacher knew he’d had to go to see Mrs Morrison during afternoon registration, and Mr Sandford the history teacher never noticed him even when he was there. The other kids in the class might have worked out that he was bunking off, but as they never spoke to him anyway, how would he ever know?

He bumped into Ellie at breaktime at the vending machine. She was wearing her Kurt Cobain sweatshirt and standing with a friend from her class.

‘Kurt Cobain doesn’t play for Manchester United,’ he told her. The girl from her class burst into hysterical laughter.

‘Oh, no!’ said Ellie, mock-horrified. ‘Have they got rid of him?’

Marcus was confused for a moment—maybe Ellie really did think he was a footballer? But then he realized she was making one of those jokes he never got.

‘Ha, ha,’ he said, without laughing at all. That was what you were supposed to do, and he felt the thrill of having done something right for a change. ‘No, he plays… he sings for Nirvana.’

‘Thanks for telling me.’

‘That’s OK. A friend of mine has got one of their records. Nevermind.’

‘Everybody’s got that one. I’ll bet he hasn’t got the new one.’

‘He might have. He’s got lots of stuff.’

‘What year’s he in? I didn’t think anyone in this school liked Nirvana.’

‘He’s left school. He’s quite old. It’s grunge, isn’t it, Nirvana? I don’t know what I think of grunge.’ He didn’t, either. Will had played him some Nirvana the previous evening, and he’d never heard anything quite like it. At first he hadn’t been able to hear anything apart from noise and shouting, but there were some quiet bits, too, and in the end he had been able to make out a tune. He didn’t think he’d ever like it as much as he liked Joni or Bob or Mozart, but he could sort of see why someone like Ellie might like it.

The two girls looked at each other and laughed louder than they had done the first time.

‘And what do you think you might think of it?’ asked Ellie’s friend.

‘Well,’ said Marcus. ‘It’s a bit of a racket, but it’s got a good beat, and the picture on the cover is very interesting.’ It was a picture of a baby underwater, swimming after a dollar bill. Will had said something about the picture, but he couldn’t remember what it was. ‘I think the cover has a meaning. Something about society.’

The girls looked at him, looked at each other and laughed.

‘You’re very funny,’ said Ellie’s friend. ‘Who are you?’

‘Marcus.’

‘Marcus. Cool name.’

‘Do you think so?’ Marcus hadn’t thought about his name that much, but he’d never thought it was cool.

‘No,’ said Ellie’s friend, and they laughed again. ‘See you around, Marcus.’

‘See you.’

It was the longest conversation he’d had with anyone at school for weeks.

‘So we’ve scored,’ said Will when Marcus told him about Ellie and her friend. ‘I don’t fancy yours much, though.’

Sometimes he didn’t understand one word Will said, and when that happened Marcus just ignored him completely.

‘They said I was funny.’

‘You are funny. You’re hilarious. But I don’t know if it’s much to build a whole relationship on.’

‘Can I invite Ellie round?’

‘I’m not sure she’d come, Marcus.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well… I’m not sure that… How old is she?’

‘I dunno. Fifteen?’

‘I’m not sure that fifteen-year-olds hang out with twelve-year-olds. I’ll bet you her boyfriend is twenty-five, drives a Harley Davidson and works as a roadie for some band. He’d beat you up. He’d squash you like a bug, man.’

Marcus hadn’t thought of that.

‘I don’t want to go out with her. I know she’d never go for someone like me. But we can come round here and listen to your Nirvana records, can’t we?’

‘She’s probably heard them already.’

Marcus was getting frustrated with Will. Why didn’t he want him to make friends?

‘OK, forget it, then.’

‘I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m glad you spoke to Ellie today, I really am. But a two-minute conversation with someone who’s taking the piss out of you… I can’t see that working out long-term, you know?’

Marcus wasn’t really listening. Ellie and her friend had said he was funny, and if he could be funny once, he could be funny again.

He saw them by the vending machine the next day. They were leaning against it and saying things about anyone who had the nerve to come up and put money in. Marcus watched them for a little while before he went up to them.

‘Hello, Ellie.’

‘Marcus! My man!’

Marcus didn’t want to think about what that might mean, so he didn’t take any notice.

‘Ellie, how old is your boyfriend?’

He’d only asked one question, and already he had made the girls laugh. He knew he could do it.

‘A hundred and two.’

‘Ha, ha.’ He’d done it right again.

‘Nine.’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘Why do you want to know? How do you even know I’ve got a boyfriend?’

‘My friend Will said he was probably about twenty-five and drove a Harley Davidson and he’d squash me like a bug.’

‘Aaaah, Marcus.’ Ellie grabbed him round the neck and ruffled his hair. ‘I wouldn’t let him.’

‘Good. Thank you. I have to admit I was a bit worried when he said that.’

More laughter. Ellie’s friend was staring at him as if he was the most interesting person she’d ever met.

‘How old is your girlfriend, anyway? She probably wants to kill me, doesn’t she?’ They were laughing all the time now. You couldn’t tell where one laugh ended and the next one began.

‘No, because I haven’t got one.’

‘I don’t believe that. A good-looking boy like you? We’ll have to fix you up.’

‘It’s OK, thanks. I don’t really want one at the moment. I don’t feel ready yet.’

‘Very sensible.’

Mrs Morrison suddenly appeared beside them.

‘In my office now, Ellie.’

‘I’m not changing the sweatshirt.’

‘We’ll talk about it in my office.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘Do you want to argue in front of everyone?’

Ellie shrugged. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t.’

Ellie genuinely didn’t care, Marcus could see that. Loads of kids acted as if they weren’t scared, but dropped the act the moment a teacher said anything to them. Ellie could keep going forever, though, and there was nothing Mrs Morrison could do. There was a load of stuff she could do to him, though, and Ellie’s friend didn’t look like she wanted to pick a fight with Mrs Morrison either. Ellie had something that they didn’t have—or they had something Ellie didn’t have, he didn’t know which.