I tip my chin up so fast I whack my head on the undercarriage.

‘Ya idiot!’ I’m swearing but I’m still whispering it over his chuckles.

Troy grins at me from where he’s kneeling at the front end of the car, bent over to see where I’ve squeezed myself.

‘Lookin for these?’ He dangles the car keys and laughs like we’re not on the run.

‘Keep it down!’

He laughs harder and holds his hands out to me.

‘What for? We left those pricks behind ages ago. Besides, this is our land; no one can catch us out ere.’

I’m about to unleash on him when I feel hands clamp around my ankles. It’s not like those horror movies you see where the girl gets dragged away – there’s no time or breath for a full-on scream. All I get out is a gasp of fear as I’m yanked backwards into darkness.

I’m wrenched into semi-consciousness, fear pouring over me. I’m sure, so horribly sure, that Laney is in danger. Struggling out of the suffocating covers I stagger, right myself, wobbling my way to Laney’s bedroom door and slamming it open. The bed is messy as usual and there’s no way to see if a body is lying in it. I land on the thing, hands dragging through blankets and emptiness. My groggy mind screams its panic and I run to Mum’s room. Too late I remember the double shift and plonk down onto her neatly made bed, clutching my head. My whole body is shaking and there’s a metallic taste in my mouth.

Coming more awake, my mind whispers it’s just a dream. It takes me a bit longer to remember that dreams aren’t supposed to have any meaning, just the subconscious working through stuff. Still, everything inside me wants to call Mum; she’d make it all better. Only Laney isn’t supposed to be out tonight. If I call Mum I’ll be dobbing. Mum will lose it because Laney’s out and I covered for her. Laney will probably show up unharmed and hungover, then she’ll make me pay. No matter how you look at it I’ll be in the doghouse with both of them.

Feeling a little steadier I make my way into the kitchen to scull a glass of water while the kettle boils. Shocked to see the clock above the toaster say it’s only midnight, I pour myself a cuppa and banish the coppery taste from my mouth. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me it’s blood. Doing that careful tea-balancing-shuffle into the sunroom, I sit on the massive couch. A big part of me wants to turn on every light in the house but I hold off. The kitchen light is still blazing, that is enough.