‘What on earth has happened to you?’ said his mother. ‘These marks are getting worse and worse. I thought with your father teaching you English you might have done better.’ ‘He is not my father,’ Ralph shouted, ‘he is not my father.’ ‘Of course, having you in class is rather awkward but you should be more helpful than you are. After all, you are seventeen. I shall have to speak to him about these marks.’ ‘It won’t do any good.’ How sullen and stormy he always was these days, she thought, it’s such a constant strain. Maybe if he went away to university there might be some peace. ‘He has been good to you, you know; he has tried,’ she continued. But Ralph wasn’t giving an inch. ‘He bought you all that football stuff and the hi-fi and the portable TV.’ ‘So I could keep out of his road, that’s why.’ ‘You know perfectly well that’s not true.’ ‘It is true. And anyway, I didn’t want him here. We could have been all right on our own.’ How could she tell him that to be on your own was not easy?
