I hear the sound of a car turning into our street. Then the crunch of tyres on gravel.

We stand up. ‘Thanks, Lamont. Thanks, Beaky.’

Lamont smiles and rolls his eyes. ‘Anytime, nutball!’

‘Watch out for cavemen!’ calls Beaky over her shoulder as they go out the back gate ‘… And wolves!’

Dad’s car door clunks closed. Footsteps on gravel. I go in the back door as he goes in the front.

DAD

‘Charlie! My God, Charlie Merriam! Where have you been?’

He’s at one end of the hall and I’m at the other. We look at each other, unspoken questions filling the air. I take a big breath.

‘Dad?’ I say, a stifled squeak.

‘Charlie …’ says Dad, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. ‘Charlie …’

‘Dad!’ I rush to him and hug him so tight. He hugs me back even tighter; his shirt buttons dig into my cheek and he feels so warm and soft and Dad-like. I bury my face in him.

‘Oh, Charlie,’ he says, stroking my hair. I look up at his face.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ I say at last. ‘Sorry I … Sorry I ran off like that.’

‘We were really really worried, Charlie.’ His voice sounds small, like he’s far away.

‘I’m really really sorry.’

Dad sighs and slowly shakes his head. He looks old and tired.

‘And where exactly have you been all this time?’

I hesitate for a millisecond. ‘Just in the forest,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

Dad gazes at me, so worried and relieved it makes me look down at my feet and feel ashamed. I can’t work out what he’s thinking or what he’s going to say next. I know what Mum would say if she was here; she’d be giving me a proper telling off. It’s high time you took some responsibility, Charlie Merriam. Try considering other people for a change, not just yourself … Dad saying nothing is almost worse than that.

I peep up at him through my hair.

‘Dad …’ I begin. ‘How’s Dara?’

He looks at me. Blinks.

‘Dara?’ he asks.

I nod.

Dad takes a big breath. I can see he’s trying to hold it together. Trying to be strong.

‘Dara …’ His voice wobbles. He clears his throat, tries again. ‘Charlie, Dara … is very ill. His heart … his heart hasn’t developed properly. He’s having an operation.’

My own heart thuds. My breath quickens. I swallow. ‘When … when will the operation be finished?’

‘They don’t know …’ Dad looks at his watch and sighs. ‘They said it’ll probably be a while yet. They said Mum was to try to rest and they’d tell us when there was any news.’ He looks at me, and his eyes are so frightened I have to look away.

‘Can I go and see him, Dad?’ My voice quivers. ‘When he wakes up I mean … give him a cuddle …’

Just at that moment, Dad’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He grabs it immediately. ‘It’s Mum,’ he whispers.