‘You said you loved me last night.’

‘That’s when you were sick and stuck in that wheelchair. I felt sorry for you.’

He splashed me back and that started a proper water war, which got us both laughing.

So why was it that I felt a little sad when I thought about going to bed that night?

9

The class gave us a round of applause when we entered the classroom the following Monday. This time I didn’t feel embarrassed at being the centre of attention. I even gave a small bow before sitting down next to Charlotte.

‘Welcome back,’ said Mr Meredith. ‘We’ve missed you, Ashleigh and Aiden Delatour, and we’re thrilled you have returned to the fold. If you see me at recess, I will let you know the work you’ve missed. Now.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Time, class, to learn about the Great European Famine of Thirty-Two. Please make notes on your tablets and pay attention …’

Charlotte’s father picked us up after school. Dad came for Aiden and, as arranged, handed over a small case with pyjamas and toiletries in it for me. I was excited about having a sleepover at Charlotte’s house – I mean, home was great, but occasionally I longed for something different. I wondered if that was why I’d been thinking about Xena recently.

Charlotte’s dad was small and full of nervous energy. He shook my hand as he introduced himself, but couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a second. His gaze flitted everywhere, as if he was afraid of missing something or someone more important. His hand was slightly clammy and when he let go of mine, I wiped it on the back of my dress.

We hadn’t been driving for more than a minute when he gave Charlotte the news.

‘I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the visit to the riding club,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Something’s come up.’

‘Oh, Dad!’ said Charlotte. ‘You promised.’

‘I know. I know.’ His fingers tapped on the steering wheel. ‘One of my men rang in sick and we have a function this afternoon. An important function. I’ve got to go in his place.’

‘But …’

‘Charlotte, we cannot afford …’ His voice was firm and he glanced at us in the rear-view mirror. When he spoke again his tone was calmer. ‘We’ll talk about this later. Okay? I meant what I said. The contacts there could be very useful. And I promise we will go at some time. Just not tonight.’ His eyes skidded over mine for a moment. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ashleigh.’

‘Not a problem,’ I replied. ‘I’m just happy to hang out with Charlotte.’ It was true, but I’m not sure he believed me because he promised I’d be invited to the reorganised trip. Charlotte squeezed my hand as if sympathising with my disappointment. I didn’t tell her it was non-existent.

The journey to Charlotte’s house took a little over twenty minutes, through an area of Sydney I hadn’t seen before. Some of it was fire-ravaged, swathes of houses and parklands charred and bleak in the afternoon sun. It was depressing and I was glad when the housing estate appeared, as if offering refuge, in the distance. Charlotte’s father pressed a button on the dashboard of the car and a gate in the estate’s wall opened up as we approached, then closed behind us.