‘I … I’m here to Live,’ I say slowly. ‘Through you. Whoever you are.’

He laughs in a way that sounds like rocks falling.

‘I’m Rowan.’

Sorry to disappoint,

ghost girl,

but this ain’t much of a life.

Suddenly the doors of the school open and hundreds of children in blue come splashing out on to the playground. Rowan stands up.

The headteacher’s spotted me.

I can already tell

this meeting ain’t gonna be good.

(What are you doing to me, Jonah?)

‘Listen.

I’ve got to stream for you if I want to keep this phone.

If it’s living you want, then fine.

Ten a.m. tomorrow, yeah?

Let’s live.’

I watch as a smartly dressed woman beckons Rowan over from within a sea of blue sweaters, before the screen freezes and drops.

Rowan is no longer streaming.

Please choose another channel.

14

Alice

When I’m back to being entirely Alice again, I realize that Dad is already in the room, still wearing his work uniform and carrying a big box.

‘Dad!’ I snap my laptop closed. ‘Haven’t you heard of knocking?’

He lowers the box gently on to the chair and walks calmly out of the room without a backward glance, closing the door behind him. I feel guilty for a moment, wondering if I’ve finally managed to offend him, when I hear a knock.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I say as he pokes his head round the door, but he’s already seen that I’m smiling. ‘What do you want, anyway?’

He points to the box. ‘It’s Wednesday night.’

I look over to the whiteboard hanging up opposite my bed and under all the crossed-out words I read: Puppy Therapy.

My smile drops. ‘You didn’t …’

But Dad’s busy, carefully opening the box and making noises no grown man should ever make as he lifts out a white Labrador puppy, who looks both bewildered and excited.

‘But …’ I say meekly as he brings it over, wriggling and trying to lick his face. ‘My spoons …’

He stops, smile fading. ‘Your mum said you were feeling better. I …’

And the way he’s standing, holding the dog close to his chest, both of their faces drooping, I can’t help it. Even though I can feel the conversation I just had with Rowan pulling at me, the remaining effects of the migraine, and all the hope I have for tomorrow at 10 a.m …

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Perhaps just a few minutes.’

Dad still looks unsure, but I hold out my hands for the dog and he passes it to me, tail wagging excitedly as it crawls all over my head and shoulders and licks my ears.

‘Too much?’ Dad says, and I turn to see that he’s now holding a chocolate Labrador who’s desperate to join the white one.

I can’t help it. I give them each a spoon.

Puppy therapy = 2 spoons