I’m pretty sure he reads the whole thing three times before he reacts. Then he looks up, gives a brief nod, and says, “I see. Yes. Can I keep this?”

And you might think he was totally callous and ungrateful, if you couldn’t see his hands, shaking and shaking—and a sudden tear plop onto the paper, which we all pretend we didn’t notice.

“Of course.” Dad nods. “We have copies.”

Brent carefully folds the paper up small and puts it in his backpack, then surveys the group of us again.

“I guess I need to thank…you, Graham?”

“All of us,” says Dad quickly. “We all pulled together.”

“But who are you?” Brent looks around at the faces, as though totally confused.

“Friends of Graham’s,” says Janice.

“And Becky’s,” says Danny, as Ulla nods.

“I am Rebecca’s mother-in-law,” says Elinor.

“It was Bex who made the plan to get Corey,” puts in Suze.

“We called it Becky’s Eleven,” explains Mum brightly. “Have you seen the film?”

“Which one’s Becky?” demands Brent, and, nervously, I step toward him.

“Hi. I’m Becky. I met your daughter, Becca. I came to the trailer—I don’t know if she mentioned it—and I told my dad you’d been evicted….That’s how it all began, really.”

“We wanted to get justice for you,” chimes in Janice. “That Corey is a low-down snake, pardon my French!”

“You’re from Britain.” Brent looks more and more bewildered.

“Oxshott. But I flew over to help,” continues Janice cheerily. “Well, anything for Jane and Graham.”

“And anything for Becky,” adds Suze. “She got us all going.”

“It was a group effort,” I say quickly. “Everyone was brilliant.”

“But…” Brent rubs his face again. “Why? Why help me? You’re strangers, most of you. You don’t know me.”

“We were helping Becky’s dad,” says Danny simply.

“You need to thank my daughter,” puts in Dad. “She’s the powerhouse behind all this.”

“Oh, and by the way, Brent, thanks for the C.B. and M.M.M. tip,” I exclaim, suddenly remembering. “That’s, like, my motto for life!”

But Brent doesn’t respond. He’s looking around at the ten of us, a sort of wonder in his face. Then, at last, he turns to me.

“Young lady, you must be very lucky in your friends,” he says. “Or maybe they’re lucky in you.”

“I’m very lucky in my friends,” I say at once. “That’s what it is. Definitely. They’re amazing.”

“It goes both ways,” says Ulla, and we all peer at her in surprise. (She’s not the most talkative, Ulla, although she was brilliant at distracting Cyndi.)

“Hear, hear,” confirms Suze.

“Well, anyway,” I say a bit awkwardly. “The main thing is, we did it. And now you’re here! You must come for supper….” I swing back round to take up the conversation with Brent. But I can’t see him anymore. What happened? Where is he?

We all scan the crowd in confusion, and Luke searches around the area a bit—but it’s soon obvious he’s not coming back.

Brent’s gone.

—