I must have been in the tree for a long time, because it started to get cold and dark. And then I remembered I was meant to be looking for Caleb and so I jumped out of the tree and ran home. I rushed into the kitchen and ran straight into Mum.

‘And where do you think you’ve been?’ said Mum.

‘Looking for Caleb. Is he okay? Has he come home?’ I asked.

‘Yes, thank goodness, and no thanks to you. You’ve been gone for hours. I hope you weren’t at the Johnsons’, my girl.’

‘No, Mum, I was out looking for Caleb. I looked in the olive grove and round the streets and everywhere. I went down to St Bernards Road. Where was he?’ I asked.

‘So you didn’t go to the Johnsons’?’ she asked. She had her hands on her hips, and a daggery look in her eye. I suddenly felt a bit sick.

‘Well no. Well, I knocked on the door to ask if he was there, but they said he wasn’t and I left straight away.’ I said it without looking at her, and tried to turn away as fast as I could so she couldn’t see the lie on my face.

Mum grabbed me by the arm and squeezed it hard. One of my feet lifted a bit off the ground. She picked up her wooden spoon from the table and smacked me on the legs over and over again. I pulled away from her.

‘Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you, you dreadful child. What did I do to deserve such a beastly girl? It doesn’t matter what I do for you, you still want your own wilful way. I’ve got a good mind to send you to the children’s home tonight before your father gets home.’ She was screaming now. Ruthy and Caleb were nowhere to be seen. That was smart of them, anyway.

‘Sorry, Mum. I really was looking for Caleb,’ I pleaded. And when I said it I really meant it, even though I had forgotten all about him. But she was in one of her furies and saying anything at all wasn’t a good idea. She picked up her metal potato masher and threw it across the kitchen at me. I put out my hand to stop it, and it got me between the thumb and my fingers and really hurt. I dropped it and she screamed at me to get out of her sight. I gladly ran to the bedroom. Caleb and Ruthy were on Ruthy’s bed in a little huddle. No one was safe when Mum was in a fury.

‘Where were you really, Dorcas?’ asked Ruthy. ‘Did you go to see Sixpence?’

I was holding the potato-masher hand in my other one because it was really hurting. It was all red and throbby. I didn’t want to cry in front of Caleb and Ruthy because I was the oldest one home and I was meant to be the bravest. But my hand really hurt and my heart hurt even more because I didn’t know where Sixpence was and whether someone had given her a bed in her cage and some greens for her dinner. And what if no one cleaned out her cage and it started to smell and that meant the head of the museum commanded that she be thrown out with the rubbish? What if she was so stinky from lack of care that they gave her to the bloke in there who stuffed old dead things and he put her in a glass case as an exhibit? What if a little boy like Caleb went to see her at the museum and had an allergy attack and they decided to shoot her like they did old horses? What if Mr Johnson just stuck her behind a shed at the museum and no one even knew she was there?