As we followed the stream, I realised with relief that we were on a sort of track. It wasn’t like the real path, the one we’d left. It was more just that lots of people must have come this way before, so all the feet had made a trail.

For the first time, the walk was almost fun. The stream snaked back and forth as it ran down the side of the hill. There’s something about walking along by the side of a stream or river that takes away your sadness and eases your fears. Rivers always go somewhere. Rivers never get lost. Follow it, and you’ll be OK.

Kenny’s tread became less tired, and he got a bit more of the old bounce back in his stride. Even the snow seemed to ease off. But then I realised that it was just because we’d turned away from the wind, so the snow blew into our backs rather than our faces. And even the snowy wind at our backs felt like a good thing – a force helping us to get where we wanted. I put Tina down for a minute, but she whined and whimpered till I picked her up and slipped her back inside my jacket.

“Tell us a story,” Kenny said. “Not a scary one.”

I’d always told stories to Kenny. Sometimes I read them from books, sometimes I made them up. I think he liked the ones I made up more than the ones from books, because the made‑up ones often had places and people he knew in them.

“What kind of story, our Kenny?” I asked.

“A good one.”

“Daft lad! All my stories are good.”

“One with adventures in it,” Kenny said.

Adventures. That was tricky. I tried to think of some of the stories I’d read. Old ones, mainly …

“I’m waiting …” Kenny reminded me.

So I told Kenny all the stories I could think of. Stories about the Greeks fighting the Trojans, all because of some girl everyone fancied.

“What was she called, the girl?” Kenny asked.

“Eh, oh, Helen, I think,” I said.

“Helen? That’s not an olden‑days name. There’s a Helen in my class. She’s got metal on her teeth to make them straight. She was kissing a boy in the playground and they got stuck together, because he had metal teeth as well. They had to get the fire brigade to chop them into two again.”

“No way!” I said.

“They did!” Kenny told me. “Well, I wasn’t there, but that’s what I heard. They would have been stuck together for ever. They would have had to get married and live like that.”

“How would they eat if their mouths were stuck together?”

“I don’t know. Doctors would put a pipe in them to pour soup down.”

“A pipe? Where would they put it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Up the bum probably.”