“Never been in a tent,” Jacob said.

“What?” Dad asked from under the remains of his old bench. “Never?”

“Nope. My Gramps always promised to take me camping, but then he …”

Jacob didn’t finish.

“You could camp tonight,” Dad said. “In the garden.”

“But, Dad,” I said, “it’s December.”

Dad slid out from under the bench. His glasses were wonky and he was covered in sawdust.

“So what?” he said. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Cal? If you make a campfire, you’ll be nice and toasty.”

I looked at Jacob.

“Dunno …” he said. “Whatever.”

“OK, then!” I said. “It’ll be a laugh.”

The tent was torn in places and the frame was bent too, battered by the wind during a Lake District holiday the year before.

“We need to patch it up,” Dad said. “Jacob – pass me that penknife, please.”

In the end, it took Dad and Jacob two hours to fix the tent, and I spent most of that time watching them. I saw how Jacob paid close attention to everything Dad did. He even helped to sew up the ripped fabric. When they were done, they both looked really proud.

“Put the kettle on!” Dad told me. “We’re parched. Biscuits too, please.”

As I filled the kettle, the doorbell rang.

“Cal – it’s Freya!” Mum called.

Oh no. I had completely forgotten that she was coming over.

“Hey!” Freya said from the kitchen door. “Ready for our play date, Cal?”

Then she spotted Jacob.

“Oh.”

“Hi,” Jacob said. “Cal never said you were coming –”

“He probably forgot,” Freya said with a glance at me. “It’s no big deal. What are you two up to – anything fun?”

Dad came in and told her how they’d fixed the tent.

“Jacob’s mum had to go away,” I added. “So he’s staying over and we’re camping tonight.”

“Cool!” Freya said. “Room for one more?”

*

Mum spent ages on the phone with Freya’s mum, making sure it was OK for Freya to camp with us. When at last she was done, she gave us all a stern look.

“We are trusting you,” she said. “Trusting you to behave, to be respectful –”

“Mum!” I moaned.

“Quiet, Cal,” said Mum. “This is important. Freya and Jacob are my responsibility in this house.”

“We know,” I told her.

Mum nodded, and then she took Freya home to get her toothbrush and stuff. Jacob waited until they were gone.

“Ha ha!” he said. “Tonight’s gonna be well funny.”

“Why?” I said.

Jacob punched me on the arm. It was supposed to be playful, but his fist felt like a hammer.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to –”

“No worries,” I told him, rubbing my arm. “What do you mean funny?”

“You and Freya,” he said.

“What about me and Freya?”

“Mate, anyone can see you fancy her.”

“But I –”

“It’s obvious, Cal!” Jacob said. “And she fancies you, too. I’m gonna be stuck in the middle – in a flipping tent!”