She looks up at him and notices his freckles and blue eyes. She keeps noticing them, these days, and the fact he is now a bit taller than her. She turns back to the ground. ‘Have you seen these stones?’

‘You’re such a girl,’ says Billy.

She shoots him a look. ‘I didn’t put them there.’

‘Sure you didn’t.’

It starts to rain. A few heavy drops, widely spaced, then more, falling quickly through the branches. Billy shrugs. ‘Fine then.’ They pull up their hoods and start back to Billy’s, with Jameson following, covered in mud.

‘Maybe we should get a tarp for the roof. It’s gonna get wet,’ Billy says.

Lauren doesn’t answer. The sky grows too dark for the afternoon. The rain is so thick and loud that Billy, too, is quiet. There is a faint, deep sound of thunder beyond the fields.

When they reach Billy’s house, water has seeped up their denim jeans to their knees. The Mathesons live in an old steading with a slate roof and untidy brambles. There is a football net in the paddock-sized garden, edged with dry stone. Billy’s mother Kirsty is taking her horse Pepper to his stable in the far corner of the adjoining field.

The children walk through the back door and shriek as Jameson shakes his wet coat in the passageway. The kitchen smells of fresh baking. They take their wellies off, one foot helping the other, and lean against the radiator. Jameson begins to smell of wet dog drying. Lauren can feel her hair slimy on her skull. The house is brighter than hers in lots of small ways. They stand warming themselves, looking at the plate of apple scones on the waterproof tablecloth. A couple of leftover Braeburns have been placed in the centre for decoration.

‘Can we eat them?’ Lauren asks, picking up an apple.

Billy pauses. ‘Mum’ll have to say.’

He starts to make two glasses of Robinsons orange squash when Lauren puts the apple in her pocket and says, ‘I think your aura is blue.’

‘My what?’

‘Your aura.’

‘Oh aye. What’s that?’

‘It’s a kind of colour that comes out of you.’

‘Like … blood?’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘Lauren the auren.’

‘Aura.’

Billy’s mother comes through the back door, peeling off her bumblebee jacket and taking a seat at the table as she rubs her arms. ‘How’s that den coming on?’

‘Fine. Lauren says she can see my aura and it’s blue.’

Billy’s mum laughs. ‘Is that right?’

Lauren doesn’t look at either of them.

‘Billy,’ says his mother, ‘have you packed yet?’

‘I will in a bit.’

‘Well, you’d better do it soon – you’ve got school tomorrow, then we’re off.’

‘Lauren saw a wifey on the road.’

‘She wasna a wifey,’ says Lauren too quickly.