‘Okay, Granddad,’ I say. ‘Love you.’

I wait for him to say it back, but all I hear is the shallow sound of his breathing.

The phone goes dead.

I stare at the screen.

‘Tell your granddad, me and Dad will be visiting . . .’ Mum walks in. ‘Felix, what’s wrong?’

I turn around.

‘I don’t know, Mum,’ I say slowly. ‘He’s gone.’

‘What do you mean, gone?’

I hand her the phone. ‘I just told him I loved him and he put the phone down.’

‘He’s tired, Felix, and you know your granddad is like your dad when it comes to expressing his feelings.’

‘Yeah,’ I sigh. ‘It’s just he didn’t sound the same.’

‘He’ll be fine. Don’t you worry. He’ll soon be back over there making you eat sausages again.’

‘Hope so.’

‘He will!’ Mum puts her arm around me and gives me a hug. ‘Tell you what, let’s have a movie night, and I’ll go into work later tomorrow so I can take you to school in the morning.’

‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, we will,’ she says, looking at Dad as he comes into the room. ‘You deserve it, and we’ve not all been together for ages.’

‘Yeah.’ Dad nods. ‘I’m up for that. What shall we watch? I think there’s a new series of Daredevil on Netflix.’

‘Well, that’s not quite what I had in mind,’ says Mum. ‘Let’s see if there’s anything else.’

‘Oh no, here we go.’ Dad rolls his eyes as Mum walks towards the TV. ‘Not another romcom, Legally Blonde or Bridget Jones, again.’

I smile. I don’t care what we watch, just as long as we all sit down together. Mum is right, it has been ages – it’s like everyone has been zapping around at a million miles an hour since Dad’s business went bust and, of course, after Gran died.

Dad sits next to me on the sofa as Mum sorts through the DVDs.

‘Love Actually?’ she asks.

‘No,’ says Dad.

‘Along Comes Polly?’

‘No.’

‘Oh . . . I know . . . Frozen!’

‘Mum!’ I lie back on the sofa and laugh.

I haven’t done that for days.

Plan B

‘I guess he won’t be going zip wiring then?’ whispers Jake.

I glare at him.

‘What? I’m only saying . . .’ Jake shrugs. ‘I was looking forward to it.’

‘Who said you were going anyway?’ I say. ‘And besides, I’m not worried about zip wire. I’m not even worried about chess.’

‘Boys.’ Mr Andrews leans over our table. ‘How are those graphs coming along?’ He turns Jake’s book towards him and sighs. ‘Jake,’ he says. ‘We’re supposed to be reflecting triangles on the y axis, not plotting the Milky Way.’

Jake laughs. ‘I’m trying, sir.’