‘Robert, you are such a kind little boy. I’m so proud of you. But for now, I would like it if you’d wait a while. Until things settle a little for Eliza and her dad. I think they need time to heal. Do you understand?’

‘Not really. And it’s sad because she doesn’t have any friends. If you died, I’d want someone to be kind to me.’

Mrs Fisher, who’d been standing there the whole time, suddenly butted in.

‘Robert, you need to listen to the adults. We know more than you do.’

Robert curled his lip – he hadn’t meant to, it just happened. He doubted they did know more. Why did grown-ups think they knew it all? He’d lost this battle though, that was obvious.

‘Fine,’ he said, sulkily. ‘I’ll go back into the house then.’ Tucking the hand holding the bag of sweets into his trouser pocket, he retreated. Sometimes he was allowed to take some things from the shop, like last week when his mum told him to take two Pot Noodles for himself and Nick for an after-school snack. But he had to have permission. He couldn’t ask for it now – she’d see right through him and know he was taking sweets for Eliza. Robert had already made his mind up he was going anyway. His mum would be in the shop working for another two hours at least, and his dad wasn’t due home from work at the local brewery until seven. There was plenty of time to sneak out, see Eliza, and get back before anyone knew he’d been gone.

His heart beat so hard as he crept out the back door. He was careful not to be seen by any adults, particularly those heading towards the shop – he didn’t want them to dob him in. He’d made sure he’d given enough time for Mrs Fisher to have walked down the road – she was so nosy and annoying – she’d definitely rat on him if she saw him leaving.

Eliza’s house wasn’t far from the shop; it wouldn’t take him long to reach it. He’d only ever been there with some of the older kids when they’d knocked on Creepy Cawley’s door and run away. Robert felt scared now as the bungalow came into sight at the end of the cul-de-sac. He knew the things people said about Eliza’s dad, but he wasn’t sure they were true. Even so, his tummy twisted and bubbled as he approached. Creepy Cawley’s red truck was in the gravelled driveway. He really hoped Eliza was outside playing. That way he wouldn’t have to knock on the door and ask for her.

Robert hesitated by the front wall; his hands were hot in his pockets, the paper bag of sweets felt warm and squidgy. Eliza wasn’t in the garden. He stood, unable to go forwards yet unable to walk away either. He’d come this far; he had to be brave enough to knock. He wished he knew which window Eliza’s bedroom was. He’d just knock on that and she’d probably come outside.