And for a second we both just blink at the phone, buzzing in Dad’s hand. We’re thinking ahead, frightened and wondering. We know that this phone call will change everything.

‘Hello,’ says Dad. He goes into the living room and closes the door.

NEWS

I run upstairs and lie on my bed cuddling Howard Carter. He purrs and nudges my hand with his chin every time I stop stroking him. I look into his eyes and think of the lynx. I thump the rhythm of my spirit song softly on my pillow. My window’s open and outside I can hear the trees of Mandel Forest whispering gently in the breeze.

After what feels like about a hundred years I hear Dad’s slow footsteps on the stairs. I leap to my feet. Dad puts his head around my door.

‘Dad,’ I say, my voice all squeaky. ‘Tell me about Dara. Is Dara OK?’ Dad puts his hands on my shoulders. He looks me straight in the eye.

‘Dara …’ he says, speaking my brother’s name in the wispy way. His breath catches in his throat and he swallows hard.

I feel like I’m falling from the tallest tree, like I’m diving to the depths of a well. Down down down. My whole body tenses as I wait for the crash and the splash and the snap and the break of my own ending.

‘DaRA!’ I say his name how Harby said it, like he’s a warrior, like I’m a warrior too. ‘DARA!’

‘Charlie,’ says Dad. He’s shaking his head, over and over; tears stream down his cheeks. Then I notice that he’s smiling too. ‘It went OK, Charlie,’ Dad squeaks. ‘Dara’s operation went OK.’

Relief surges through me. My eyes fill up with tears. Dad pulls me close and hugs me tight. I wrap my arms around him and soak his shirt with my tears. I can feel the gasp and shudder of his sobs.

‘So,’ I say into his chest, my voice all muffled. ‘If it’s good news, then why are we crying?’

‘Dunno,’ he says, pulling one arm away to blow his nose, ‘must be the onions.’

I laugh through my own tears.

‘Dad, there are no stupid onions.’ I grab a tissue and blow my nose too. ‘It’s OK to cry, you know. Even cavemen cry.’

‘That is such a Charlie Merriam thing to say.’ He kisses the top of my head. ‘You stink of dog.’

‘Nero,’ I say, by way of explanation.

Dad shrugs; he doesn’t see me shiver, remembering the wolf.

Then Dad does a double take. ‘Charlie!’ he gasps. ‘Would you just look at the state of you!’

Dad takes my shoulders again and holds me at arm’s length. ‘What on earth have you been up to? You’re covered in cuts, Charlie! And you’re absolutely filthy; I’ll run you a bath, love.’

‘No, Dad. Let’s go to the hospital right now! I want to see Dara. I want to see Mum.’

‘Catch yourself on, Charlie.’ Dad’s eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. ‘Do you really want to see Mum looking like that? She’d have a fit. In fact they probably wouldn’t even let you into the hospital – you’re a walking health hazard!’