Caleb sometimes just didn’t know when enough was enough. ‘Dad, why wouldn’t Mum go to the special prize night?’ he asked again.

But Dad just stood up, gently putting Ruthy down on the carpet as he did so, and walked to the door. ‘Let Mum have a good night, kids. She’s happy. Try to behave when we come back in for the tellie.’ And he joined Mum in the kitchen.

‘Dorcas, why wouldn’t Mum go to the prize night if she knew about the special writing course?’ Caleb asked me, even though I’d tried to get him into bother.

‘Because she might not think it’s right to take a certificate if I don’t do the course,’ said Ruthy, huffy.

I thought about that for a moment. ‘No, I think it’s because someone might ask her why you couldn’t go, Ruthy, and she might not want to be a witness to the truth and explain why we have to be in the world but not of the world when we are all dressed up and at a kind of party,’ I said.

‘But why not?’ asked Caleb. ‘Aren’t we always meant to be ready to tell people about the love of God and His purpose for us?’

‘Yes, but sometimes it’s just damn inconvenient,’ I said.

‘Dorcas!’ cried Ruthy and Caleb in unison. ‘You said the D word!’

Mum came to the door with a warning look. ‘What’s going on in here?’ she asked. We all froze. We didn’t want a happy day to change to a head day, not just for our sakes, but for Dad’s too.

‘Nothing,’ we all called out in perfect unison.

Luckily, she only stopped for a second to give us a piercing, checking look, and then turned away. We all started to breathe again.

What happened during tellie-watching and Cadbury’schocolate time after tea was just typical of Caleb. As Ruthy says, ‘He just doesn’t understand family politics.’

We had been having a great time. Our usual half an hour of tellie with Mum and Dad included The Bugs Bunny Show, but we held our breath when Mum changed it to Gilligan’s Island and didn’t ask us to go to bed. We looked at each other very carefully, trying not to draw attention to the fact we were still upright, and watched it right through almost to the end. We couldn’t believe our luck. And then blow me down, Caleb dropped a bomb.

We were only allowed to speak in the advertisement breaks. When Coke was telling us it was the refreshingest, Caleb piped up.

‘Mum, I forgot to tell you I would need a new footy jumper,’ he said, as though he was just asking her to pass the salt at the kitchen table.

‘Really? And why is that, might I ask? There’s nothing wrong with yours unless you’re going to tell me you’ve lost it.’

Ruthy and I looked at each other with fright faces on. This might not be good. Caleb hadn’t told us he’d lost his jumper. There was a good chance we’d be blamed for it if he had. There was an even better chance I’d be blamed for it. I hadn’t been walking home with them from school that week, so it might end up being my responsibility.