Mum looked stricken. Money’s always been a bit tight in our house. Not as tight as in Evan’s, but still. Tightish. We’re not one of those families that has a giant plasma telly or buys a new car or goes on long-haul holidays.

‘What do you mean, vulnerable?’

‘I mean vulnerable – you know what that means, don’t you?’

Maeve stuck her head round the living-room door. She was just about to go out with her friends – she was wearing a short skirt and a tight top and about two kilos of make-up, but she still looked incredibly bad-tempered. ‘What? What’s vulnerable?’

‘My job.’

‘What do you mean, Dad? They’re giving you the sack?’

‘It’s not definite yet.’

‘Oh great, that’s all I need,’ said Maeve, and flounced out, banging the front door behind her.

‘I’ll smash Roger Haggerston’s face in!’ Ben said. He’s only six and it often looks like he’s in a world of his own, but he picks everything up.

My mum’s like, ‘What are we going to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ my dad said heavily. ‘If the worst comes to the worst there’ll be some redundancy money, but I don’t know how much.’

‘How can they do this to you, after sixteen years?’

‘They can do what they want.’

He sounded so sad and weary that even the dog noticed, went up to my dad and stuck his head on his knee. Dad stroked the dog’s ears.

‘Come on, Billiam. Shall I take you for a walk?’

Billiam started leaping and capering about. My dad got up and went to get the lead.

‘I’ll come,’ I said.

I just felt like getting out of the house. And maybe cheering my dad up a bit.

It turned out to be a fantastically good job I went.

It was just getting dark. Me and Dad walked along, not saying much. I was thinking about having to go to school tomorrow and I s’pose Dad was thinking about not having to go to work any more. But it was kind of comforting, somehow, to walk along together in silence.

A few streets from our house there’s a bit of forest where you can let dogs off the lead. Billiam ran backwards and forwards, looking for a stick. He found one and dropped it at my feet. I threw it and he galloped off after it.

‘So,’ said Dad, ‘tell me a bit more about school.’

‘It was all right.’

‘What lessons did you have?’

‘Oh, you know. English and stuff. The usual.’

‘You’re Mr Communicative, aren’t you? Did you make any new friends?’

‘Well, not yet, I just went around with Evan.’

‘But do they seem nice there? It’s a good atmosphere?’

‘Oh yeah, yeah. Very good. Yeah.’