Ed King is bandaging Grandad’s foot!

‘Meg!’ Grandad cries when he sees me at the door. ‘I was just telling the boys all about fermentation … Tell me how it went!’

He looks at me eagerly, but I can’t speak. I’m still frozen with horror at the sight of Ed winding a bandage round and round Grandad’s gnarly foot.

‘Did you blow them away?’ he adds.

‘Ed, you don’t have to do that,’ I manage to say.

‘I’ve finished now,’ he says, looking up. ‘I got my first-aid badge when I was a scout. It’s good to finally use my skills. Rose was going to do it, but she disappeared.’

‘Well, OK, just … wash your hands.’

Jackson turns up the music and I look around the room, trying to take everything in. ‘Where is Rose?’ I say.

‘With the hamsters,’ says Grandad.

Of course, I think. … And then lots of things happen at once and Grandad’s tiny living room suddenly gets very crowded. Mum appears with Elsa, making Grandad leap to his feet in delight – and then crash back down on the sofa, I discover Jackson necking Grandad’s Badger Foot ale, Rose creeps in with a pregnant hamster, Pongo barks and Elsa starts crying.

‘This stuff is lush,’ says Jackson, sipping at his mug of ale. ‘You’re right. It does taste of biscuit and burnt raisins!’

‘I’ve got a keg of Diabolo stored under the stairs,’ says Grandad. ‘Why don’t you go and find it, Jackson? It’s a bit strong, but this is a celebration: Alice’s home!’

‘No,’ I say, shaking my head at Jackson, but he darts out into the hallway anyway.

Mum is down on the floor whipping Pongo into a frenzy, saying, ‘Who’s missed me? Who’s missed me?’

Ed comes over and joins me at the door.

‘So,’ I say, surveying the scene, ‘you’ve met my family.’

He nods. ‘But I haven’t met the chickens.’

There is so much I need to say to Ed, but I don’t know where to start. Then Ed does one of his half-smiles and I suddenly realise that it’s not an arrogant smile. It’s a shy smile, and I wonder why it’s taken me so long to realise this.

‘Ed,’ I say, ‘would you like me to show you the chickens?’

‘Yes,’ he says, nodding his head.

I take him out into Grandad’s wild garden and we sit on the bench under the holly tree. Chickens peck round our feet and the sun finds its way through the canopy of leaves.

We sit like this for a while, with me swinging my legs and Ed telling me about their rescue mission. He’s just describing how they had to drag Grandad out of the hole then wheel him down the hill on his bike when I interrupt him. I can’t wait another second.

‘Thank you –’ the words burst out of me ‘– for giving up your place like that … It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.’