“Showing off your present from the mayor, Lyle?” said Grif. “Trying to impress a bunch of schoolkids? No stopping you, is there?”

“Shut up, Grif.” Lyle looked at Jed. “You’re an eldest, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Jed.

“C’mon then. Walk back with us.”

They started off after the others.

They sang as they walked.

“In the northside fields where the daisies grow

I found my love, sweet Evie-oh

With her jet-black skin and her jet-black curls

Under the shadow of the grey willow.”

“Grey Willow”. We’d heard it a million times before. The way the Parkers sang it, though, it was like it was a whole new song. Like it wasn’t just a song – it was real. Maybe it wasn’t really the Parkers singing at all. Maybe it was the dead relatives – William Whittington and Georgina Millicent Cruise and all the other dead Andersons and Cruises and Stanburys and Parkers – everyone who’d ever died and got buried in Fennis Wick cemetery.

They sang it soft and strong and dark and smooth.

“She took off for camp with her billy lamp

Under the shadow of the grey willow.”

Me and Trig tagged behind, singing along under our breath.

The Parkers carried Lindi into Frog Alley. They disappeared between the houses, heading for Doctor Sunita’s. Jed went with them, but me and Trig just sort of stopped at the entrance of the alley.

I scanned around for frogs, but there weren’t any. A fat black caterpillar curled along the brickwork. I held my finger in front of it, but it wouldn’t climb on. It arched its middle, wiggled round, and crawled along in the other direction. Slow as you like. Funny how, somewhere inside it, there’s the beginnings of wings.

I prodded it. It fell off into the stinging nettles.

I looked back out towards the caravans. Elsie Weather was still there, kneeling down on her sponges in the strawberry beds.

It was extra quiet now. We couldn’t hear the singing any more.

I leaned against the wall. It was scratchy behind me. I pressed the back of my head into the bricks. What would it be like if I cracked it against them really hard?

What would it be like if I got knocked unconscious, like Lindi?

What would it be like if I died?

I closed my eyes and held my breath. Would it feel like this?

“D’you think Lindi’ll be all right?” Trig flapped around the alley, all too-big hands and too-big feet. “D’you think Doctor Sunita can save her? D’you think Lyle can see out of those funny glasses? He’s so lucky the mayor gets him special presents. It didn’t look like he could see out of them, did—”

He stopped still. His mouth went into a full-blown “O” shape.

“Oh no,” he said. “Oh no!”

“What? What is it, Trig?”