Becky had never liked cities, but as the coach crawled through the traffic, into the heat of the city, she knew it was the right place to be. Here they could lose themselves with no trouble at all. No one could ever find them. So when she walked out of the coach station with Brighteyes, into the streets, where everyone seemed to know where they were going and were in a tearing hurry to get there, it made her feel suddenly very bewildered and alone. She saw a bus going by. The sign on the front said Stanley Park. “We’ll go to the park,” she said to Brighteyes. “Then you can have a run.” She didn’t want to spend any more money on fares so she followed where the bus went, which was easy because the traffic was heavy and slow, and there always seemed to be another Stanley Park bus coming by which they could follow as well. It was a long walk, but the buses told Becky she’d get there sooner or later, so she just kept going.

When they did finally walk out on to the grass of Stanley Park, Brighteyes seemed to know at once that he could take off, and he did. Other dogs – there seemed to be mostly poodles in the park that day – raced after him, trying to keep up with him. They couldn’t get near him, but that didn’t stop them trying, again and again. He dodged and weaved, running circles round all of them. Becky sat on a bench loving every moment of it, glowing with pride. The sun was out now and warming her through. She felt suddenly happy. She knew then as she watched Brighteyes gambolling about that whatever happened, she had done the right thing, and that her father would think so too.

It was this unexpected surge of happiness that made her get up and race after him, made her forget her rucksack. When she came back with Brighteyes it was no longer there on the bench where she’d left it. All her spare clothes were gone, a blanket from her bed at home and all her photos of her mother and father, everything. All she had left was the money in one of her coat pockets, and a few biscuits for Brighteyes in the other. She sat down and cried then, mostly because she was so angry with herself. In that moment of despair, if she’d had her mobile with her, she’d most certainly have rung her mother right away, just given up and called the whole thing off. But she had left it at home deliberately, because she had known that sooner or later, she’d be bound to weaken.

Brighteyes stood there looking up at her, still panting after his run around. It was a knowing look, and one that Becky understood at once. “I know what you’re saying,” she said, wiping away her tears. “You’re saying: no use sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. You’re saying: I’m hungry.” She gave him the last of the biscuits, then counted out the money she had left. “£8.32. Not much is it, Brighteyes? But we’ve got to eat. I’m hungry too.” They shared a hot dog between them, had a long drink from a water fountain and set off across the park.