Wolfie’s bed was made but slightly rumpled, like someone had lain down on top of the covers, and when I sat on the edge, a slow-moving tidal wave of weariness washed over me. With no clues jumping out, it looked like I’d reached a dead end, and I leaned back on the pillows, my eyelids dangerously heavy. Mustn’t fall asleep, mustn’t fall asleep. Maybe I could close them just for a second, but keep my feet on the floor? I slow-blinked a couple of times and suddenly I wasn’t tired any more, although it took me a little while longer to work out what I was looking at.

The ceiling of Wolfie’s bedroom was almost entirely covered with pieces of paper in all different colours and sizes, stuck at random angles. Some had single words written in large, printed letters and others had phrases or sentences scrawled in the thick black, blue and red cursive.

TRY

YES YOU CAN!

Who loves ya, baby? Lou loves ya, baby.

TRY HARDER

You can do it!

LIGHT

DREAM

A bright mind breeds a light mind.

Everything good lives on the other side of fear.

DON’T BE AFRAID

Pain is a colour.

A MAL TIEMPO, BUENA CARA

KEEP TRYING

Do it for you, do it for Lou.

IT’S ALWAYS IMPOSSIBLE UNTIL YOU DO IT!

VAMOS, CHICA!

Don’t blow away.

STAY

Everything passes, even UNhappiness.

THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH

Con todo el amor del mundo

I read every one of them, working my way across the ceiling and back several times. I recognised a couple of the Spanish ones from Lou’s leg cast, and when I repeated them in my head, it was Wolfie’s voice I heard. Wide awake and feeling a lot more sober, I swung myself off the bed and walked over to the window again. Jaz was sitting back inside the cab, low in her seat, possibly being lulled to sleep by the reassuring sound of the meter ticking over.

I caught a very slight movement in the corner of my vision, and there’s something about your own name being pointed at by a waving golden cat that really gets your attention, isn’t there? When I’d run my fingers over the notepad on Wolfie’s desk, I hadn’t taken any notice of what was written on the top page, but when I pulled it across the desk so it was the right way up and in front of me, you’d better believe I did.

Dear Danny Mulberry.

I sank down into the chair and read every word over three handwritten pages as a monsoon of pennies plummeted down. I closed my eyes and tried to control the dizziness that had snuck back up on me, and when the room stopped moving, I flicked back through page after page of unfinished attempts – some pressed so hard with the pen that the paper was torn, one abandoned with a single line scratched through.

Dear Uncle Danny

I went back out into the kitchen, still holding the notepad, and looked at the crisp packets and chocolate and the lonely fruit, and pictured Wolfie alone in this flat, when she was meant to be at school or bogus detention, lying on her bed surrounded by as much junk food as she wanted, staring at the ceiling. I tore off those pages, filled with all the things she couldn’t say out loud to anyone, except an almost stranger, a man she was so desperate to believe might have the answers, and I folded them up and put them in my pocket.