‘You couldn’t have stopped me. I love a mystery.’ Her eyes twinkled as she spoke and it made me smile. She was full of mischief. I’d really missed being around her.

‘This job with Savage, would it be every day?’

‘Yes, right through until autumn. There’s loads to do on a farm this time of year.’

‘Do you think he’d pay my bus fare on top?’ I knew it was cheeky but if anyone had the balls to ask him it would be Maggie.

She laughed. ‘No. But you can stay at mine. If it suits you.’ She gave a nonchalant shrug.

I glanced up the road to see Dad reversing down a path and waving at someone. ‘Look out he’s leaving.’

We both reversed back around the corner. I was wishing I’d worked out what I was going to say to him. I expected him to walk back towards us but instead he came out of one gate and went up the next path. ‘What’s he doing?’

‘Come on,’ said Maggie and she marched off towards Dad.

‘Whoa!’ But it was pointless. She was like a sniper’s bullet – fixed on her target and there was no stopping her. I jogged to keep up. ‘Let me handle this.’ I sounded a lot more confident than I was.

Maggie let me go in front and I slowed down as I neared the house he’d just left. I could hear him talking. He was standing on the doorstep chatting to a woman. He sounded totally different. Not like Dad at all.

‘Brilliant. Thanks. Should be next week but I’ve got your number if not. Bye then,’ Dad said, in his fake cheery voice and he turned to leave. His face when he clocked me and Maggie standing on the pavement watching him was something I’ll always remember. Rabbit in headlights was an understatement – more like rabbit facing a battalion of monster trucks.

He looked shifty as he dashed down the path and waved us back the way we’d come. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ The penny seemed to drop before I had chance to answer. ‘You’re following me? Why the hell are you following me?’ He was glaring at Maggie now.

‘I asked her to come.’ I didn’t want him having a go at Maggie.

‘Why?’ he asked, sounding cross.

I was working out what to say when Maggie beat me to it. ‘Because the poor lad thinks you’re drinking again and he’s worried sick about you,’ said Maggie. ‘Sorry, Tom,’ she added in a soft voice. ‘He needs to know.’

Dad’s expression changed. ‘Did ya really think that?’ I nodded. ‘I’m not, son. I promise.’

It was a relief to hear him say it. ‘Then what are you doing?’ I asked.