Her phone dings again less than a minute later and I sigh as she looks at the message and laughs. “Nic says they’re checking out the village and I will regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t come right now.” Another text comes through. “And she’s not going to shut up until I go and meet her.”

She looks at me, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Tess? Pretty, pretty please come with me to look at some pretty, pretty boys?”

I laugh unwillingly. “Oh go on, bugger off, you daft nympho.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

I look at her blond perfection and my own mud-streaked fat-jeans, hair a frizzy nightmare. “In this state? With you and Nicole? I don’t think so. Go. I’ll hang out here a bit.”

She’s wavering. “Go on,” I say again. “Seriously—go and check them out and report back to me.”

She doesn’t look back as she lopes off, and it’s only after she’s out of sight that I realize I’m going to have to get back across the stream on my own.

September 2006

The insanely hot boys and their family have bought Dean House. I kick the Sold sign as I pass it and go round to the side gate, swinging my carrier bag full of gardening stuff. I’ve been coming here since last year when Dad shouted at me for working in our own garden. Our garden was always Mum’s thing and he hasn’t touched it since she died.

Dad hardly ever shouts, but he had tears in his eyes and so I stopped and promised I wouldn’t touch it anymore, even though it kills me to see all Mum’s plants get strangled by weeds and brambles.

I never meant to break in. I never go in the house, though, just the garden, so maybe it’s just trespassing? It’s not like I’m the only one who comes here—the house has been empty for years, since the old man who owned it before actually went and died inside. Of course, it then became the local haunted house. Kids come here on dares and teenagers come here to drink and smoke and other stuff.

Me, I come here and plant flowers and pull up weeds. My very own secret garden, pretending I’m Mary Lennox, even though I’m way too old for games. Pretending my work will make some magic happen.

Bella heard that they’re moving in next week, so this is the last time I’ll be able to come here. A stupid part of me wants to rip out all the stuff I’ve planted. Why should I leave it for them? But what would I do with it? It’s not like Dad will let me move all the plants to our own garden.