I said: “I have never been more proud to be your mother.”

And here is the thing about that sentence, said at twenty-five past four on that Tuesday, with my son’s shoulder under my chin.

It ended the conversation.

There were eleven questions I needed to ask and I asked one and a half of them, because the hug had already told him the verdict and there is no reason on earth for a thirteen-year-old to volunteer more information after the verdict has come in favourable.

I did not ask him who bought it.