Just before eight, the doorbell rang. Shane listened to the low voices in the hall, and then a familiar light tread was on the stairs and a tiny rap of knuckles sounded at the door.
“Shane?” Rebecca called, and then cracked it open and those wild red curls appeared.
“Hey.”
She shut the door behind her with a snap, dropped her schoolbag on the floor, and clambered onto the bed to hug him. She was skinny and light, but she was also warm and smelled of raw comfort.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Uh-huh.”
“I told your dad we had maths homework.”
“‘Kay,” Shane mumbled into her hair, and she squeezed tight. “I couldn’t do it. I was going to tell him over the football, but he started shouting at this guy who plays for City, calling him all sorts, and…”
“Calling him what?” Rebecca prompted. S
