"It's all right," he says. "I've got another one somewhere."

"I don't mean about the mugs. I mean, what the hell?"

Mum sits down next to Leia. "So, Leia, you're at the college too?"

Leia glances at me, then nods.

I try to help her. "We have film studies together, Mum."

Mum's nodding. "Course, film. That's great. And how's it going?"

Leia still can't get words out.

"It's fine." I offer, "We're working on a script."

"A script?" calls Dad from the sink. "Fantastic! You didn't say anything, Lukey."

All eyes on me. I'm frozen.

"So Leia," says Dad, carrying on like I'm not even in the room. "Who's the Star Wars fan? Your mum or your dad?"

He fills the kettle. Leia checks with me. I shrug.

"My dad," she says, folding her hoodie in her lap.

Mum laughs to herself. "Luke and Leia, the movie romance."

"Mum!"

"What? I'm just saying. It's funny, eh?"

"It's fate," says Dad, not turning around from the sideboard. Fate? Who is this guy? And what's he done with my father?

"Actually, they were brother and sister," says Leia. "I mean, in the film. They weren't a couple."

Mum frowns. "But she kisses him. I remember it, Joe, they kiss, right?"

I want to die.

Dad turns round and winks at me. "They certainly did, Ange, but Leia's right. They were brother and sister. Vader's kids. You take sugar, Leia?"

Enough.

"We have to go," I say, reaching for my shoes. "We've got a thing to prepare, for tomorrow." I stare at Leia and she follows my lead, pulling her shoes on.

"What about your teas?" says Dad and he smiles at Mum and I think I might throw up. I'm picking up both our bags, taking Leia's hand and leading her to the door.

"It was nice to meet you," Leia says.

"You too, sweetheart." Mum waves like the queen from the sofa and I'm opening the door. I let Leia step on to the stairs then look back at Mum, who pouts, then mimes the word "Lovely," and the last thing I see before I pull the door closed is her smiling and giving me the thumbs-up.

We used to test ourselves on long car journeys. Marc had a black Casio with a stopwatch on it and we'd time each other to see how long we could hold our breath. I'd stare out at the fields as we drove up north to see Uncle Chris, my cheeks puffed out to hold more air, my vision blurring as my head went faint. It always felt like an hour had gone by.

"Thirty-two seconds," Marc'd say, smiling at me. "Good try, Lukey." Then I'd hold the watch and time him, staring at the black digital numbers as they changed. I always loved the way eight became nine, just one piece disappearing to make a whole different number.

One minute fifty-four seconds.

And Marc would exhale like a horse. "I can do better," he'd say. "What's the world record for holding your breath, Dad?" Dad said there were divers who could go underwater for something like twenty minutes. I didn't believe him.

"Is that true, Mum?"

"If your dad says so."

Twenty minutes? That was a whole episode of Ben 10.

"Reset the watch, Lukey, I'm going for it," Marc said.

Dad laughed from the driver's seat. I watched the numbers, knowing he'd never once got to two minutes.

When we hit 1:30 Marc starts to grip the inside door handle. 1:40, and Marc's face is going red. 1:45. 1:50, I knew he'd burst soon. 1:55, I could see the cords in his neck and a vein in his temple. 1:58. 1:59.

"Mum, look at Marc."

Mum turning back and the shock on her face. "Marc, stop it! Marc!"

2:01. 2:02. He'd broken the two minutes.

"Joe! Stop the car. Pull over now!"

I don't know how long he was unconscious for. I didn't time that, but I remember sitting in the car, watching Mum rub his back, walking him up and down on the hard shoulder, thinking, my big brother is dangerous. Even to himself.

If humans evolve to achieve telepathy, will there still be awkward silences?

I'm staring forward. The sun's gone behind the tall houses and me and Leia are walking through shadows towards the high road. I'm embarrassed. I'm confused. I'm properly excited. That just happened. Man, she can kiss. How long have Mum and Dad been meeting up? What does it mean? Does Marc know? What would've happened if they hadn't showed up?

"Sorry."

"It's OK."

Leia's hands are in her hoodie as she walks next to me. It's getting cold.

"I didn't plan it, I mean, that, I just-"

"It was my fault," she says, "I shouldn't have ..."

I see Mum and Dad in the doorway. "I don't even know what that was. They've hardly spoken to each other for nearly two- Wait," I stop walking. "You shouldn't have?"

Leia carries on a few steps then stops too.

"I got carried away," she says, turning back. "Stupid."

Why would she say that?

"Why would you say that?"

She's looking at me like there's stuff she wants to say, frowning like she wishes I could just read her mind. I know how that feels. This could be rubbish. I have to save it.

"It didn't feel stupid." I don't look away. "It felt amazing."

She doesn't speak. Say something else then.

But I can't think of anything, so it's just the pair of us on the pavement. A backdrop of traffic sounds. Me, open. Her, frowning. What is she scared of?

I walk towards her. She doesn't back off, but she's shrinking into her hoodie.

"I wanted that to happen," I say. "Didn't you?"

Her frown flickers. I risk a hand out towards her.

"I think so," she says. I pull back my hand. She thinks so?

But then she smiles. Like she's not allowed to say the words, but wants me to know. I smile back.

"The bus stops down here." I point.

Her right hand comes out of her hoodie pocket and she steps closer. I keep my eyes on hers as her hand moves up over my shoulder, to my neck and then my face. I fight the urge to flinch as her fingertips move to my scar. Her hand goes to pull away, but I hold her wrist, keeping her fingers against my face.

"How did this happen, Luke?" she says, following the line across my cheek. I see Craig, leaning out of the passenger window. I see Marc, standing in the kitchen doorway. I see Tommy handing me the knife.

"I wasn't ready."

I let go of her hand, but she keeps it there.

"Who did this to you?"

And I feel a tidal wave of everything swelling from my stomach, moving behind my ribs, heading for my throat. I don't want to cry again. I don't want to cry again. So I just step forward and hold her and she holds me back. Her arms around my middle, face against my neck. My arms criss-crossed round her bag, cheek resting on the top of her head. Right here. On the pavement. Like we're a life-size sculpture of what a real embrace is. As the street lights pop into life.

I breathe in the coconut of her shampoo and think to myself how all my favourite moments involve no talking at all.

Mathilda: Is life always this hard, or is it just when you're a kid?

Leon: Always like this.

- Leon: The Professional, Luc Besson. 1994 Mum's waiting for me in the kitchen.

Her car wasn't outside so Marc must still be out. Did she tell him to stay out so she could speak to me? Does he know already? Did Dad want to be here as well?

I feel Leia's hand on my cheek. I see her head against the window as the bus pulls away. Does this mean we're together?

"Sit down, love." Mum's holding her mug in two hands and I wonder if it feels like a rehearsed scene to her as much as it does to me.

"I know you must have questions."

I sit down. Leia on top of me on Dad's sofa. The heat of her mouth.

Does she regret it?

Mum's wrestling with her script; she thinks I'm gonna kick off. "See, adults, me and your dad, it's ... sometimes you find comfort in what you know, the familiar ... What's funny?"

"Nothing."

"So why the smile?"

I shrug.

"Listen, your dad and me ... your brother doesn't know, see, it's complicated." She sips. You're damn right it's complicated.

"It doesn't mean that me and your dad are-"

"It's all right, Mum."

She looks at me, confused. "What do you mean?" Yeah, what do you mean?

"I mean it's OK. You don't have to explain yourself."

Mum's looking at me like she recognises me, but doesn't understand.

I imagine a cable car travelling between my head and hers, all the things we're not saying out loud travelling back and forth along the wire.

"You're getting big, Lukey," she says, after a while.

We sit on the sofa in lamplight, sipping cups of tea, and it feels good.

Like she's actually here. Like we could really talk.

"So, Leia seems lovely," Mum says, and I feel myself blush as I nod.

"Are you two an item then?" She's leaning forward a little.

I shrug. "Dunno."

"Course, no need to rush these things, eh? You take your time, love." And as she reaches over and pats my knee I notice how small her hand is.

She gets up and goes to the dresser in the corner. "You know I was nineteen when I met your dad." She sits back down, holding the dark blue photo album.

"I know, Mum, I've heard the story. Big Alien fixes car."

"Nineteen. That's hardly older than you." She opens the album at their wedding shot. A younger her stands smiling, dwarfed by a beaming younger Dad.