Ethan sat on the sofa. Mum and Dad sat next to him. Mum and Dad didn’t say anything about real school as they waited for Mary. They didn’t ask if he’d thought about it, or if he had decided what he wanted to do. The boat was quiet. Ethan’s heart was beating the seconds away. Still no one knew he had spoken.

There was a knock on the bow doors at exactly nine o’clock. Mum went up the stairs. Mary’s heels clacked on the wooden steps.

“Hello again, Ethan,” she said. She took off her coat and sat on the fold-out chair by the kitchen. “So, how are you? Did you finish your knight’s journal?”

“Almost,” said Mum as she sat. “He’s been doing well in all his subjects. We’re ahead of the schedule I planned.”

“Well done, Ethan,” said Mary. “I’m sorry if I surprised you last time. I didn’t mean to frighten you by talking about school.”

School. The word felt so strange.

“Coffee?” said Dad quickly. Mary nodded. Dad got up and put the kettle on. There was a clatter of cups in the kitchen.

“Ethan made a really good friend on the canal,” said Mum. “A girl his age. But Polly moved on yesterday. He’s a bit upset.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Ethan. But I hear you’ve been using a notebook? What a wonderful idea. And you used it to speak to your friend?”

He nodded.

Dad handed Mary a cup. He sat back down.

Mum took Dad’s hand. Ethan’s heart felt like it was running away from him, but he didn’t want to stand up or run off the boat, not yet.

“Ethan,” said Dad softly. “All right?”

He didn’t shake his head or make the rug slide.

“Are you OK to talk about this?” Mum put her hand on his shoulder.

He nodded.

“It’s not that you can’t be taught on the canal,” said Mary, “we just want to discuss all the options.” She put her cup on the floor. She started talking slowly, carefully, like each word might be one too many. Mum and Dad watched him closely. Dad still held Mum’s hand.

“I met with Mr Cabot. He’d be really happy to show you his school.”

Mum leant forward. “Wait. . .”

“It’s OK, Caitlin,” said Dad.

Ethan’s palms were sticky. In the new tree house Polly had said he was bigger than the canal. She had said he could go further than the market and the library. That he could go back to school and it would be all right. Polly believed he’d speak again and he had – she’d been right.

“There’s no pressure if you don’t want to,” said Mum.

Ethan thought for a moment. He took a big breath. His heart thudded. He nodded.

“Are you sure, Ethan?” said Mum.

“That’s something you’d like to do?” asked Mary.

“Have a look,” said Dad. “If you choose not to go, that’s fine. We’ll just see how it goes.”

“I’ll arrange a time with Mr Cabot,” said Mary. “How’s next week?”

“Fine,” said Dad. “Any day, I’ll take time off work.”

“I’ll call and let you know,” said Mary. “If there’s a problem or you have a question, you’ve got my number.”

Mary stood up and put on her coat.

Dad put his arm around Ethan. “I’m proud of you, son,” he said.