Then Lamont’s voice goes really quiet. ‘Like … like when my dad went away. That’s kind of what I did.’ He stops talking, throws another pebble instead. His dad left home last year and Lamont doesn’t ever talk about him now, so Beaky and me don’t ask.

‘Maybe it helps and maybe it doesn’t, not thinking about stuff. But things don’t go away just because you don’t think about them.’ Lamont’s voice catches.

I sit up next to him, but I don’t know what to say; I don’t think Beaky knows either. Luckily Nero does; he puts his head in Lamont’s lap, snuggling in.

Lamont sniffs and strokes Nero’s glossy fur.

‘Oh, what do I know, Charlie? Do what you like. Think what you want … but I just can’t believe all this Stone Age stuff … I want to …’

He faces me again then, and his eyes look older somehow, like dog eyes, ancient and patient and kind.

‘… I do want to believe you, Charlie … but I just … I just can’t. You know?’ He shrugs. I shrug back and look away. Harby probably wouldn’t have believed in our world either; he wouldn’t even have believed in Lamont!

‘It’s just the way I am, Charlie,’ says Lamont.

And when I think about it, he’s actually right. Lamont’s always been the one with his feet on the ground; he’ll play along with Beaky and me but he’s never really believed in it the same way. Not like Beaky and me do. Beaky and me, we thought of the names for everything in the forest: ‘Deadman’s Cave’; ‘the Pinnacle’; ‘the Druid’s Well’; ‘the Spirit Stone’ … and Lamont … Lamont drew the map, and he did it really properly too, on squared paper, working out which way’s north and with a scale and all. It took him ages. But he stuck with it until it was exactly how he wanted it. That’s just the way he is. He’s solid like that, Lamont. I smile at my friend and give him a nudge.

‘It’s all right, Callan Lamont,’ I say. ‘I know what you’re like.’

‘And I know what you’re like, Charlie Merriam, you big nutball,’ he says with his old slow smile, nudging me back.

‘Oh noooo,’ says Beaky. ‘You’ve started two-naming each other. I know what’s coming next …’ She puts her fingers in her ears.

‘What do you mean … Beatrice Bird?’ says Lamont, grinning.

‘AAAAAARRGHH!’ bellows Beaky, collapsing sideways off the back step, like she’s been sniped. She hates her real name more than anything.

I giggle, then we all giggle, even Beaky, and Nero starts barking like crazy.

Lamont’s phone pings. We all stop giggling right away. Lamont looks at his phone. ‘My message must’ve finally sent. That’s from your dad. He says he’s glad you’re safe and he’ll be home soon.’

Beaky winces. ‘Sometimes with a message, it’s what they don’t say that counts.’ Then she mouths the words. ‘So. Much. Trouble.’

But I don’t care how much trouble I’m in. All I care about is my little brother, making sure he’s OK.