“That, my boy, is a surprise! I could only afford one, so let’s hope it’s a good one!”

Grandad saw that Marty’s smile was fading. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you those computer games and things that the kids have these days. I’d give you the whole world if I could. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” said Marty softly.

“And you never know what this little stunner has in store for us,” Grandad said, taking the seed from Marty’s palm. “There’s magic in seeds, you know”—he winked—“you can never tell what wonders are in them.”

Marty looked at his grandad with his usual mix of love and confusion.

“It is a lovely seed,” he said.

Grandad held it up to the last light of day and studied it, his whole body quivering with excitement.

“You’re right, my boy, it’s a beauty! It’s a rollicking beauty!”

TWO

THIS IS A LIST of what Marty had:

• 1 old BMX bike
• 2 sweaters that fit him: 1 red, 1 blue
• As many books as he could pull from the stuff in the house
• 1 mother who wouldn’t leave the house
• 1 two-inch-tall statue of the Eiffel Tower given to him when he was tiny by the dad he hadn’t seen since he was four, which he kept in his pocket
• Uniform donated to him by the school, which included:
  • 1 pair of trousers with the name Harry Thomas sewn inside them
  • 1 school T-shirt with the name Nathan Sharp written in ink on the collar
  • 1 school sweater with Lee Smith written on the washing instruction label. (Marty didn’t mind not having his own school uniform, except that when he lost an item of clothing at break time or after PE he’d have to remember four names—his own and all these others in order to get his stuff back.)
• Half a packet of toffee chews
• A single bed with a Mickey Mouse duvet cover he was way too old for

“I’m home!” Marty shouted, but his voice was kind of snuffed out. That was the thing with their home. There was so much clutter inside that it seemed to dim any noise. It squished you into quietness and stillness. Marty closed the door. He’d been to the shop to pick up the dinner and some milk and had hung the thin plastic bag on the handlebars of his BMX as he rode home. They usually had a savory pie, because you could bake it in its own tin, and Marty had found that if you swished it out with water afterward and added it to the pile of old pie tins, then they slipped into one another, taking up not very much room.

“You taken your tablets?” he shouted.

“Yes!” came back the muffled voice. Marty could hear his mum dragging stuff about.

“What are you doing?” shouted Marty.

“You’ll see!”