‘Home schooling will work out fine,’ Aunt Verity shouts. ‘Tiger is so clever, Hugh.’ And then she shouts some more about how she looks after me all of the time, and that Daddy rarely sees me. And that it will be her decision, and hers alone. And Daddy says it isn’t up to her, and that he is my daddy, so he chooses what happens to me. He says he will come to Flynn House and take me away if she isn’t careful.

But Aunt Verity says, ‘You know you’ll never set foot in the place, Hugh. You’re too afraid of the past.’ And I realise Daddy has never been to the big house, and that makes me sad.

And then Aunt Verity grabs my arm and drags me out from under the hedge, and all the prickly branches scratch my arms and legs and blood bubbles everywhere.

‘Aunt Verity!’ I scream, and then I cry so hard my nose runs.

‘Oh, Tiger,’ Aunt Verity says, and she wraps me up tightly in a grey beach towel. ‘Let’s get you home, sweetie. Let’s get you away from Daddy; he’s in a very grumpy mood.’

*

I like making fairy cakes with Aunt Verity. It’s my third favourite thing in the whole world. My first is being with Daddy, my second is being with the puppets, but this is my third.

‘Are you OK now, Tiger?’ Aunt Verity says, as I spoon the mixture of eggs and sugar and flour into paper cases, and lick my fingers.

I nod. ‘I like making cakes.’

‘I’m sorry I got cross with Daddy earlier. And I’m so sorry you hurt your legs and arms.’

‘It’s all right.’ I scoop more mixture onto the spoon. ‘When the cakes are cooked, please may I have three?’

She smiles. ‘That’s a little bit greedy, Tiger.’

‘But I have got sore legs and arms.’

‘Well just this once, then,’ she says with a big smile.

I plop the mixture into the last case, and Aunt Verity puts the tray into the oven while I lick the bowl. It’s not long before the whole kitchen smells sweet and sugary and my tummy grumbles.

*

Later, in my room, Aunt Verity straightens my yellow duvet, and karate chops my pillows, and lays my cuddly tiger on top of my red pyjamas.

‘What’s that noise?’ I ask, looking up from building a house out of Lego on the floor. I hear it a lot. Tap, tap, tap above my head.

‘I can’t hear anything, sweetie,’ Aunt Verity says, bending down and stroking my cheek. She says this every time I ask her about the tap, tap, tap. ‘You’re imagining things again, Tiger. You have a good imagination, just like your daddy.’

I like it when she says I’m like my daddy.