‘I’m here, Ma, can you see me, Ma? I’m coming.’

‘Help me, Juliet.’

‘I’m here.’

‘Where are you, Juliet?’

‘I’m right here.’

‘BUNNY!!!!!’

‘MA!’

Then she’d disappeared down through the floor, leaving only scorch marks.

That was deeply stressful, and for a while sleep became her enemy.

‘Are you OK?’ Davey asked her when he saw she was pale and moody from lack of sleep.

‘What do you care?’

‘I care a lot! What do you mean?’ He was hurt. They were sitting together on the bus. It was the second hour into a six-hour journey.

‘You disappeared for two days!’ she shouted.

‘I had to do some business in New York between shows.’

‘You didn’t even say goodbye!’

‘You were on a different fucking bus. What was I supposed to do?’

‘Phone me, Skype me, WhatsApp me, Viber, message me—’

‘Right, right, you’ve made your point. Sorry,’ he said.

‘I thought we’d lost you.’ She welled up and his face fell.

‘Shite. Of course. Sorry.’

Davey wasn’t a natural father but he was doing his best.

She spent a lot of her time with Gemma, her tutor. She was twenty-eight and married to a man in the military. He was in Afghanistan. Sometimes Juliet dreamed her mother was being held hostage in a cave, dressed in a burqa with the AC/DC Highway to Hell logo on the front of it. Gemma came and went. Davey flew her in for a day or two at a time, she’d teach and then leave assignments; she was always available on Skype. It was fine. Everything was fine.

On Juliet’s thirteenth birthday she woke to the sound of her computer bleeping. She answered her Skype. Molly appeared on the screen.

‘Hello, love,’ she said, and she waved. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks, Gran.’

‘And look who’s here,’ she said, and she moved the computer around to show Juliet a bunch of headless torsos. ‘You have to raise it, Ma.’

‘Raise what, Grace?’

‘The computer – the child’s looking at a bunch of stomachs.’

Grace leaned down. ‘Hiya, Bunny . . . Sorry . . . Juliet . . . Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks, Grace.’ The computer moved and suddenly Juliet could see her gran, granda, Grace, Lenny, Stephen, Bernard, Ryan and Jeffrey. Jeffrey had lost more weight. ‘Wow, Jeff,’ she said, and gave him the thumbs up. They all sang ‘Happy Birthday’, even Ryan.

‘Where’s Davey?’ Molly asked.

‘In a band meeting on the other bus.’

‘What are you doing to celebrate?’

‘Oh, it’s back-to-back shows so we’ll probably just grab dinner.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Casey has organised a cake and she sang to me at the concert.’

‘A cake and a song from Davey’s employer?’ Molly said, and she sounded pissed off.

‘She’s Davey’s best friend and she’s kind to me.’

‘What’s Davey doing?’

‘I’m only thirteen, it’s no big deal.’ Juliet suddenly felt teary.