It’s funny because most people say that they know the four of us are related because apart from the wild disparities in our height, we look exactly the same. Same dark hair and eyes. Same brown skin. Our relatives see the difference, though, insisting that I take after our father and Rosh takes after our mother, which is true I suppose. I have his nose and straight hair while Rosh has my mother’s rebellious curls. It’s a shade or two lighter than mine, and she’s already taller than me, so by the time she’s out the other side of this all-hair-and-elbows awkward adolescent phase, she’s going to look more like my father. I, on the otherhand, become more like my mother with each passing day. We have the same small mole on the bridge of our noses, the same small hands and feet and the same dry sense of humour.

‘I won’t hug you,’ my father says. He holds his hands up, which are as filthy as the rest of him, the knees of his jeans caked in mud. ‘Did you have a good day? What have you been up to?’

‘I went to Rampion Wind Farm,’ I tell him, trying not to smile when I think of Poppy.

He raises his thick eyebrows. ‘I heard.’

My mother must have called him when she was walking to work.

‘Sorry, Daddy,’ I wince.

‘It’s not your fault, darling.’ He winks at me. ‘I didn’t read the permission slip properly. I thought it was an actual farm, you know? With cows and pigs and stuff.’

‘Yeah. No. Not so much.’

‘Glad you didn’t fall off the boat.’

‘Me too.’

He turns to Rosh. ‘What have you been up to, Squirt?’

‘I’ve nearly finished my book.’

When she holds it up, he frowns. ‘Didn’t you start that this morning?’

‘Yeah. Can we go to the Jubilee Library tomorrow so I can get the next one in the series?’

‘I’d love to, baby girl.’ He stops to tug his beanie off and scratches his head with a wide yawn. ‘But I’m taking your grandmother to see her friend in Bournemouth tomorrow.’

Rosh looks forlorn. ‘But what about ASDA? How are we going to get all the shopping home?’

‘You’ll have to get the bus.’

She and I groan in unison.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he says, waving his hand at us. ‘The exercise will do you good.’

‘Um, excuse you. I walked to the Marina today,’ I remind him. ‘That’s enough exercise for the week.’

He laughs, but Rosh still looks devastated. ‘But when I finish this book I have nothing else to read.’

‘I’ll take you to the library before we go to ASDA,’ I offer. ‘I need to do some research anyway.’

She turns to me with a grin. ‘What about? Cognitive dissonance?’

‘What’s cognitive dissonance?’ my father asks.