Tom

It was twenty minutes later than planned that the mini-bus drew away from the centre; packed with excitement, dreams and anticipation. Voices rose and fell and surged like the waves of the sea at Skegness; near the shingles, starfish and whispering sea-shells. Washed again for the millionth time.
Malcolm sat beside the driver. She had been hired for the day and concentrated on the cars pulling out from side streets and then a lorry turning left into a recording studio. Anyone could record a song there. Even top of the flops; as long as the voice had sufficient money to pay.

The girl, who'd sunk her teeth into Tom's arm, wasn't there; which was good. But his Katherine wasn't there either....which he didn't think was good at all.
Tom liked Katherine. She spoke in short sentences. She looked him straight in the eyes...but only for a few moments....then looked down at the floor. Katherine seemed to spend a lot of time looking away. Most times she walked alone, despite having a bus pass, often walking in treacherous conditions. Everything had to be carried out in a precise way.

Once Tom had got himself in hot water, Tom's mum always used that phrase. He'd sat down at Katherine's tea-table one bank holiday tea-time. She had told him off quite clearly before taking his jelly and spoon away. He hadn't waited for her guidance as to when Tom could begin. His support worker had broken the rules as well.