‘How convenient that when you want to blab our family secrets to him, he’s suddenly one of us. When anyone else mentions him, he’s some geek you can’t stand.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘How about Adam? Have you told him?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Probably only a matter of time,’ he snarked.

‘Well, that’s decided it, then, hasn’t it? If I’m such a blabbermouth, you’d better show Mum and Dad before I accidentally blurt it out on the weather forecast!’

‘Blurt what out?’

We both spun around to find Dad standing in the doorway, looking as though he’d caught us setting fire to the Christmas tree. The snowman on his jumper peered suspiciously down his carrot nose.

‘Nothing,’ Jed snapped, making us appear even more guilty.

Dad moved to pick up the photo that had wafted onto the floor when we jerked around. ‘Oh.’

I took an instinctive step closer to my brother, dumbstruck with dread as we watched Dad morph through surprise, annoyance, and resignation before settling on disappointment – quite possibly my least favourite of all parental emotions, despite being the one I was most familiar with.

After the three of us had been standing there for what felt like an eternity, Mum strode in. ‘What’s happening? Has there been bad news? Is it Joy?’

Dad silently handed her the picture. Mum jerked her head back in surprise before handing it back to him, her mouth set in a grim line.

‘You’ve been busy,’ she said.

‘Um…’ It was the best I could manage, which was one wimpy sound more than Jed, who was far less used to being on the receiving end of a Principal Armstrong glare.

‘You’d better explain,’ Dad added, lowering stiffly onto his desk chair.

So I began to talk, stammering and cringing at my own words, mainly propelled on by the objective voice in my head that noted how unsurprised my parents seemed.

I finally finished, helped out by Jed chipping in when I got tangled up a few times, and came to a merciful, stuttering stop.

My parents were like twin statues, stark white and every muscle rigid with I daren’t discover what… anger? Hurt? Betrayal? Or, most likely, all of the above.

One thing was certain, they weren’t about to thank us for our reckless attempt to save their school.

Mum opened her mouth to speak, right about when the atmosphere grew so taut I feared the windows would implode, but Dad gave a firm shake of his head. He was going to be the one to respond.

‘What possible justification did you have for involving your nana in this?’

‘We didn’t… I only asked her…’