“Saw the door was open, did you? Came for a stickybeak?” She softens the mean words with a smile. But her eyes are still sharp on me. I’m familiar with this situation; I know how to play.

But before I can say anything the councilwoman interrupts. “You didn’t help clean this up, did you?” I don’t miss the glance at my legs. Oscar.

A surge of panic stretches time, giving me room to think. I meet the woman’s eyes. “Are you kidding me? Lettie doesn’t let anyone in here.” I don’t look at Lettie, I keep my gaze on the councilwoman but I can feel Lettie relax slightly to my side.

“Damn straight.” I catch the look Lettie shoots at the councilwoman, but the official’s gaze is still focused on me.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I’m sick.”

“You don’t look sick.”

“I’m getting over a cold.”

“How old are you? Where are your parents?”

“I’m twelve.” The lie’s easy. “Mum had to go to a meeting. She’s been home all week with me already. She told me to ask Lettie if I need anything before she gets back. Didn’t she talk to you before she left, Lettie?” I give her my own bird eye. She owes me.

Lettie waves her arm. “Sure, sure. Said you’d be asleep all morning, though, not gallivanting about on my veranda. You seem well enough for school to me.” She looks me up and down, frowning. “Perhaps I should give her a call?”

“No, I just popped over ’cause we’re out of tissues and I thought you might have some.” I let my eyes wander around the hall, hoping my face is getting across a suitable amount of shock. I glance at the councilwoman and back to Lettie. “Guess you’re busy, though. I’ll just call Mum and ask her to bring some home.” I turn to go.

The councilwoman starts to say something, but Lettie steamrolls over her. “Off to watch TV, no doubt. Kids today! Home with a bloody sniffle. Her mother’s too gentle with her. Runs her round to three sporting activities too, can you believe it? Three! Bloody helicopter parenting. Raising a generation of wusses.”

I keep walking to the gate. I’d smile at her using the old-goat voice if it wasn’t for the phone in my pocket and the time ticking closer to the next unavoidable call. She’s still going on as I shut the front door; the council lady’s trying to interrupt her with questions about booking a date for something, but she’s not getting a word in.