By mid-week I was aching to tell someone about what had happened, and I missed Craig more than ever. I tried to talk to Alan but, knowing he had problems of his own, found that I couldn’t bring myself to burden him with my woes as well.

On Wednesday, alighting from the college bus in the square, I decided to go to my nana’s.

‘My, you look glum,’ she said as she opened the door. ‘Come through to the kitchen and tell me all about it.’

I sat at the table while she boiled the kettle and made tea. ‘Still upset about your friend?’ She placed a cup in front of me.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but there’s more.’ She sat opposite me and waited for me to speak. I forced myself to say the words I’d been avoiding since Monday afternoon. ‘I’ve split up with Penny.’

‘Oh dear, and she was such a nice girl.’ She had been baking almond tarts and gave me one to eat whilst it was still warm. I felt like a six-year-old being consoled after suffering a grazed knee.

I told her the whole story then; about meeting Ellie on holiday, having sex, feeling guilty, not meaning to tell Penny but not being able to stop myself.

‘So you’ve no one to blame but yourself?’ Nana said when I’d finished.

‘I suppose not,’ I mumbled. She was telling me the truth but I didn’t like to admit it.

‘It’s true what your granddad used to say, “sex can do more damage than gunpowder”.’ I sipped my tea in silence. My granddad always seemed to have had an appropriate phrase for things; I wished he hadn’t died before I was born. Nana patted my hand on top of the table. ‘You’re young, you’ll soon find someone else.’

‘But I don’t want anyone else.’

‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before going with another girl?’

I nodded. ‘At least we’re still talking. Maybe there’s a chance?’ I looked into her lined face seeking reassurance.

She patted my hand again. ‘Maybe, but best not to get your hopes up too far.’ I could see that she was trying to let me down in a gentle way. I drained my cup. ‘Do you want another tart before you go?’

‘No, thanks, Nana.’ I stood up.

‘No, you’ve got yourself into enough trouble over a tart already.’

‘Nana!’ I tried to sound shocked but couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

‘That’s more like the old John,’ she grinned back, her soft eyes twinkling behind her spectacles.

At the door I said, ‘You won’t say anything to Mum? I haven’t told her yet.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell her. It’s best you do it in your own time.’

I kissed her on the cheek and set off for home. I felt better for having confided in someone, but overall I still felt pretty awful. I was sure whoever said ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’ hadn’t lost his best friend and then confessed to cheating on his girlfriend all in the space of a few days. I was sure my granddad would have had a phrase for it. Then I thought about Nana describing Ellie as a tart, and I smiled to myself.

Thursday afternoon I had a free period from three until four. Rather than go to the library or common room and kill time waiting to go home, I opted for an early exit and caught the service bus back to the village.

I got off at the top of the High Street. It meant a longer walk, but the fare was two pence cheaper than riding to the square. I walked down the narrow pathway which led from the station approach, past the allotments and the Boy’s Brigade hut, and out onto the top of Lancaster Drive.

As I ambled down the hill towards home I heard a car approach from behind and slow down alongside me.

‘John,’ Graham’s voice called out from the open window of the Cortina.

My heart began to pound as the caveman within me prepared to fight or flee. Thousands of years of evolution won out, however, and I said, ‘Hi.’ Although I wished, for a split second, that I had a club.

‘I just wanted to say you did the right thing over the car,’ said Graham.

Was this irony? I didn’t think Graham was capable of it. ‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘it was all Penny’s idea really.’ I could have kicked myself for saying that, I closed my eyes for a second and cursed under my breath. If he was looking for someone to blame, I’d rather it were me.

‘Then say thanks to her for me.’

I realised he was serious. ‘I will,’ I said. ‘You’re not upset about it?’

‘No way. I should never have lent the car to my mate in the first place. I was dead mad with him when he said he’d scraped her in a car park. If I’d known the truth, I’d have gone straight to the fuzz myself.’

I began to feel guilty for ever having suspected him. ‘Got another job yet?’ I asked.

‘Nah,’ he said, ‘still signing on.’ Then he brightened. ‘Looks like the band might take off though.’

‘Great. What’s it called?’

‘Technicolor Acne,’ he replied.

‘Catchy,’ I said, trying not to laugh.

‘I’ll let you know when we get a gig.’

I smiled. ‘Don’t forget me when you’re famous.’

‘’Course not,’ he laughed back. Then he slipped the car into gear and roared away, turning into his driveway with a squeal of protesting tyres.

I strolled home reflecting that Penny had known what was right whilst I’d wavered; although I was pleased that my faith in Graham’s innocence had been proven correct. It seemed that honesty was, after all, the best policy. I wondered if I should tell Graham about the missing ‘H’ in anarchy, but I decided not to push my luck.