I thought George was brilliant—coolest person I’d ever met. During the day he taught pathetic sods like me, but by his sideburns and the scuff on his loafers you could tell he had a whole different story going at night. At first he’d wear a cheap-looking black blazer and his hair slicked back very neat, trying to make an impression—but then Mum increased his visits to twice a week, and he relaxed enough to let his curls loose and put on the corduroy. Dad raised an eyebrow but he didn’t say much, as long as Mum was happy.
