It was hard not to get carried along by Pete’s excitement, but I was also very conscious of the piles of letters on the bed. I tried to estimate how many there might be and all I could come up with was a lot. A hell of a lot. The thing was, despite the thought of what I might come across in those bundles setting off a few mild heart palpitations, I also found myself strangely impatient to find out.

Pete didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, though, and while thanks to my clear-up it was a lot easier to accommodate a guest of his stature, he still did take up most of the available room. I was just thinking I might have to peel him off the bed by force when Dom called out from the back door with a summons to dinner for both of us. No ifs or buts. Not that Pete was forthcoming with either of those.

What followed was a very pleasant evening. Dom had made Kath’s chicken cacciatore, and we sat around the kitchen table talking and laughing and eating dinner. Like normal people, I thought at one stage when Pete asked me to pass the salt.

Wolfie didn’t come down, apparently due to an urgent assignment that needed finishing. It did cross my mind, as Dom prepared a tray to take up to her, that she’d been a bit of a ghost the past week, spending a fair bit of time (allegedly) staying back after school or up in her room. But being no expert on teenagers, and definitely no expert on this particular one, I figured it could be completely normal behaviour. I noticed, though.

Over dinner George was on good form (aka extremely very cheeky), Dom was the convivial host, and even Lou, who was sitting next to Pete, was quite a bit chattier than I’d heard her up until then. When he went to the loo, I warned her not to say anything she didn’t want to show up in London’s newest, hippest free paper (Pete’s words, not mine), though. Because while he was shaping up to be a pretty decent guy, there was still the small problem of being a compulsive liar and a hack journalist we had to watch out for.

I had to admit it was quite sweet to see how proud Pete was, not just of his story being such a hit with the punters, but of how well I’d done with my answers to the first letters. When he told everyone what his editor had said and how much he’d loved them, Lou looked quietly impressed and George was lost for words, for once. Dom just raised his eyebrows, but when I was doing the dishes he gave me a squeeze on the shoulder as he passed and said, ‘Good on you, mate.’

I found myself wishing Wolfie had been there to hear it.

After I saw Pete off into the dark, I said my goodnights and headed out to the shed. The rain of the previous few nights had caused the door to swell slightly and I leaned my shoulder into it, knowing exactly how much pressure I needed to get the job done but not land flat on my face. I took a moment to savour the first eyeful of friendly old non-judgemental Buzz Lightyear waiting to wrap me in his strong, deluded superhero arms. Hey, hombre, I’m home. Sometimes I even say it out loud. Because the thing Dom doesn’t get is that, even though it’s just a musty old garden shed, it feels like home to me in a way that nowhere else has since I was a kid.