Gus had dreamed of this place in hospital when no visitors came through the ward and he’d tried to be a big boy and not cry while they were hurting him, tugging his legs to get them working again. Now it felt strange to have everyone there together. This was something new but since he came home from hospital everything was different. There were visitors popping in all the time. Even his bedroom was all done up for his return, tidy and smelling of paint. He was not sure about the Yumpy Junior in his bed but his ears were tasty.

He wished his legs would get a move on and he hated the caliper on his left leg, it felt like a cage, but Dr Begg said he was a brave boy and gave him a whole half crown to spend.

Now they had the beach to themselves for all his pals had started school. He would be starting one of these days when his leg got better. What a long summer it had been. He turned to see the van bumping its way cautiously over the hummocky sand track and Father hooted his horn. He had never come to a picnic before so this must be a special occasion. Perhaps they were taking him back to hospital again.

Out of the back came the laundry basket covered with a tablecloth that was spread over the grassy bank. This was not the usual chittering bite of bread and jam pieces and lemonade but a full meal with cups and plates. That was because it was a special party. He knew they had a surprise for Auntie Netta hidden in the basket. Out came a flask of mutton broth and chunks of bread, then there were bridies and Scotch eggs, enough sandwiches to feed Stratharvar School and Gus’s favourite fruitcake with nuts on the top. There were gingerbread squares and millionaire shortbread, celery and cheese, and the last of the rasps from the garden. What a bunfeast!

Gus wished he could chase around with Brucie like he used to do but he was learning a new word called patience. He’d thought it was a granny’s card game but now he knew it meant slow down, give yourself time to lift one leg in front of the other. But it was tiring. He noticed everyone was sitting around quietly, waiting for a signal for someone to speak, looking sideways at each other and at him, munching their mouths like cows. Gus wanted the picnic to follow the usual pattern with a story digestive, the bit where you had to let your food settle or it would hurt. After the food Auntie Netta must tell him a story.

‘What’s it going to be today? Not another soppy one?’