Each time the tower fell, Kenny got more upset. He wanted to do it himself, but he just couldn’t. So in the end I’d help him. I’d find a flat surface on the kitchen floor or on the tiles around the gas fire. And we’d take it in turns, one brick from him, one from me. And I’d make little adjustments so that it would stand.

And then, when all the blocks were used up, Kenny would lie down next to it and gaze up at the tower of wooden blocks. I don’t know what he was thinking. Maybe imagining a tiny version of himself climbing up the tower and then standing at the top to look down over the world. After a while, he’d reach out and knock the tower down. The blocks would tumble over him, which always made him laugh. And it’s true that the best thing about building a tower is knocking it down. But only when you’ve decided the time is right.

Six

Six

It was much harder walking up the hill. My feet sank out of sight in the snow with each step. And under the snow and the grass, the mud was frozen solid into hard ruts. The uneven ground caught and tripped you or made you twist over on your ankle. And after a few minutes, the wind got up even higher and the snow blew around. It wasn’t easy to tell what was coming down from the sky and what was blown up from the ground.

I looked ahead. We weren’t far, now, from the top of the hill. Beyond it was just that endless grey nothing of the sky. I imagined the fields sloping down to the village beyond.

I turned and saw Kenny stumbling through the snow. “It’s OK, Kenny,” I said, almost shouting it. “We’re nearly there.”

Kenny looked up and half smiled. He walked a bit faster, dragging Tina along behind him. In five minutes we’d made it to the top of the hill.

Except it wasn’t the top of the hill.

It was just a ridge. Beyond it the ground fell for a few metres and then climbed again.

My heart sank. But I had to hide my disappointment from Kenny.

“Sorry, Kenny,” I said, putting on a bright voice. “False alarm. That’s the top, over there. Downhill all the way after that. We’ll have a cup of tea and some cake in the village.”

“Sausage roll,” Kenny said.

“Chips!” I added.

We ran down the short slope, trying to get some momentum for the climb. Tina enjoyed the little run, barking and scampering along in our tracks. But soon the three of us were trudging on up again. We had our heads low, as if we could duck the wind, the way the hero in a film ducks a sloppy punch from a drunk guy.