A moment later her eyes closed again and she slumped sideways to the ground. I tried waking her because I suddenly felt very alone without her voice to comfort me, but she was not sleeping as she usually slept. She was lying there unnaturally still, dead to the world it seemed, her face pale, paler than I’d ever seen it, white almost. I curled up beside her, my head resting on her shoulder. She needed to be warm, I thought, and so did I. But both of us were so cold by now that between us we had no warmth to share.

I was woken by the rumbling of a lorry nearby, and the sound of men’s voices. There was the clatter and crash of breaking bottles. They were emptying the bins. To begin with I stayed hidden where I was. Becky had not woken. I could not understand why not. With all the noise of the lorry and the binmen so close by, their voices so loud, I knew something was very wrong. Nothing I did made any difference. She would not wake.

I ran out from behind the bins, barking at them. They seemed taken aback at first, frightened almost, which wasn’t what I intended at all. I stood there, barking for a while, then ran back behind the bins and out again, trying to make them come and see, trying to make them understand. It was a while before they did, before one of them approached me. He was quite wary of me. He crouched down and reached out to pat me. “What’s your problem, son?” he asked, stroking my neck now. “Nasty looking ear. You’ve been in a bit of a punch-up, haven’t you?”

This time when I ran off behind the bins, he followed me to where Becky was lying. “Jeez!” he shouted. “Call the ambulance! Call 999 fast! There’s a girl back here, and she’s hurt bad! Quick!”

I stayed with Becky until they came and took her away. I tried to jump up into the ambulance with her, but they wouldn’t let me. “No dogs in the ambulance I’m afraid. Not allowed. Hygiene rules,” said the lady who’d been looking after Becky.

“He saved the girl’s life,” said the binman. “You said so yourself. You could make an exception, couldn’t you? Where’s he going to go?”

“Sorry,” she said, getting into the ambulance. “I suggest you take him to the police station down Willoughby Road. They’ll look after him.”

The binmen tried to hold on to me but I wouldn’t have it. I broke free and took off after the ambulance as it raced away down the road, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Sometimes it almost got away from me, but whenever it ran into traffic and had to slow down, I’d catch up with it. Dodging the cars or the people on the pavements, I just about managed to keep it in sight.

I had lost Patrick, my first best friend. I had been stolen away from him and would never see him again. I had lost Alfie, who’d been like a father and brother to me. I did not want to lose Becky, who was doing all she could to save my life. So I ran after the ambulance, as if Alfie was at my side. There was no way I was going to let that ambulance get away. When it turned off the road I followed it down the driveway. When they carried Becky into the hospital I tried to go in after her, but they wouldn’t let me past. They shouted at me and waved me away. So I went and sat on the grassy bank below the car park, and waited. Becky had gone in. Sooner or later she would have to come out again. I would wait for her. She had not deserted me. I would not desert her. Besides, I had nowhere else to go.