Trig stared at me with his O-shaped mouth.

“Stand up, Maggie! Stand up!”

Hands shoved at me.

“Stand up! Stand up!”

My head swirled. I pressed my hands on to Mr Webster’s smooth wooden floor and wobbled to a stand.

They all clapped for me.

A sea of faces looking up, cheering for Maggie middler.

It was exactly what I’d dreamed of.

I was special.

I was a hero.

A lonely, miserable hero. Who’d lost the best friend she’d ever had.

I buried my face in my hands.

After school I ran home to get changed. Didn’t even wait for Trig. Then I went straight to the mayor’s.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

No answer.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

Una must be in there. Mrs Zimmerman said she was. I had to speak to her.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

No answer.

I walked backwards into the square, looked up at the windows. Was that a movement – a shadow – a someone? In the very top window?

The highest window in town.

“Una? Una!” I shouted up. “Una!”

No.

Nothing.

No one.

I walked to the middle of the square. Sat on Andrew Solsbury’s pigeon-dirtied feet.

If Una was fourteen, it was right that she should go to camp. Of course it was. Her dad lied to her about having a brother. Una was an eldest, and eldests had to go to camp.

It was right.

And good.

And glorious.

But I wanted to see her, I had to see her, just one last time before she went.

And what about her dad, Mr Opal? He’d been dealt with.

My stomach curdled.

Dealt with. What did that mean? What if they’d hurt him?

They wouldn’t have hurt him. They wouldn’t.

But what if they had? Una would never forgive me. Not ever. Even if he’d lied to her. Even if he was dirty and dangerous and deceitful.

I got up. Walked out of the square, down Frog Alley, straight past Elsie in her vegetable patch.

“Need a forecast, Cruise girl? Nature doesn’t lie.”

I kept walking.

The barn was ruined. Sacks ripped off the walls; cups and bowls smashed and scattered. Clothes and blankets strewn between trees. Pulpy, torn sheets of paper flapped and draped through the bracken. The billy lamps lay broken on their sides and the Cleercan was squashed, like someone had jumped on it.

Everything ruined.

Did the Parkers do all this?

I picked up a piece of cloth. A girl’s top. Must be Una’s. I folded it carefully. Placed it on one of the tree stumps. Then I gathered up some of the paper. It was printed, torn from a book. There were so many sheets, all over the place. I couldn’t get them all.