Our birthday dinner was terrific. Dad had gone to town on a cake that was shaped like a dog. It even had Zorro’s markings in icing on the side and thirteen candles along its spine. Aiden and I blew the candles out and Dad cut slices of cake for me, Charlotte and himself. Mum was at work and wouldn’t be back until late, if at all. Sometimes she slept at the office.

Aiden watched us eat. I don’t know how he does it every year. The cakes are yummy. But I guess it’s what you get used to. Then Charlotte gave us our presents. She’d got us the same thing, which I suppose is sensible – a hologram app for our tablets. We already had one of those installed, but it had bugs and the hologram it generated of whoever you were talking to was grainy and disappeared at odd moments. This app was terrific. I took my tablet into my room and called Dad, who was, of course, still in the kitchen cleaning up. As soon as he answered, this miniature Dad appeared on my bedclothes. Really lifelike and so solid-looking that I felt this irresistible urge to poke him in the stomach to see if I could make him fall over. I couldn’t. My finger disappeared into the hologram instead. It was brilliant fun.

Charlotte and I talked until nearly midnight. About school and what had been happening since I’d been away (not much, it seemed), but mainly about camp. The kids were bummed that it had all been called off, even though they were the ones who had insisted because they were scared. Charlotte was annoyed that she’d missed out on the horseriding.

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a horse,’ she said. ‘When I got back from camp, I made Mum and Dad promise they’d take me. There’s a pony club on the other side of Sydney, apparently, but it’s really expensive and there’s a waiting list to join. Dad’s taking me to see it next Monday after school. Perhaps you’d like to come along too, Ash. Then you could sleep over at my place, if you want.’

‘Sure,’ I said. Actually, I wasn’t sure about the horse business. I’d kinda changed my mind about it being an ambition. From the movies I’d seen, being perched on top of a horse just meant you had a long way to fall and the landing was always going to be hard. Plus, they appeared to be dangerous at both ends. I’d think about it.

‘My house is nothing like as nice as yours, though,’ Charlotte added. Her mouth twisted as if she regretted inviting me. I knew what she was thinking. No house could match up to mine and she was worried she’d be embarrassed. ‘I mean, we don’t have a pool or anything, and …’

‘I’m sure it will be lovely,’ I replied. I wasn’t sure, of course, but Charlotte smiled and relaxed, which was the main thing.