At the end of the wall, the path curves away towards the farm and on a whim I decide to walk in that direction. Maybe I can catch Tracey before she has left for school. I had a really nice afternoon yesterday and right now I just want to see a friendly face.

After about ten minutes of walking, I can see the farm in the distance. It is quite isolated here – just fields, hedgerows and the grey sky. I approach the gate to the farm and contemplate the incredibly muddy path that stretches up to the farmhouse. My school shoes will not come out of that mud unscathed. I step back and look up at the house again, then see the front door open and a number of bodies emerge. They are being bundled into an old Land Rover and I realise with embarrassment that Tracey is getting a lift to school and I am stood at the bottom of her driveway like a loser. I turn and hurry away before anyone notices me, but the ground is soggy and I slip, landing painfully on my hip. One of my hands has landed in a splat of what I hope is mud but on closer inspection is cow shit.

“Shit,” I mutter, then start to giggle.

I hear the Land Rover approach the gate and stop.

“Helen?”

I look up and see Tracey peering down at me, her forehead knotted in confusion.

“Hey, Tracey, I was… just wondering if you wanted to walk to school together, but then I slipped and…”

And then she is laughing. Really hard. So hard she is snorting. More people emerge from the Land Rover and peer down at me, but I can’t make out their faces as I am now laughing hysterically too. Tears are starting to rush down my cheeks and every time I move to get up, I keel over again.

Eventually, a man with a kind face and a bald head reaches under my armpits and hauls me to my feet.

I manage to mumble my thanks as the laughter subsides.

“You must be Helen,” he says. “I’m Terry, Tracey’s dad. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, then I’ll give you all a lift to school. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

“No, I just got a bit filthy.”

“I’ll walk back to the house with her, Dad. Helen, you can borrow one of my school skirts for today if you want?”

Her little brother is still sitting in the back of the car, giggling, his shoulders shaking as her dad reaches in and lifts him out. I can see from looking at him that what Tracey said about him not being well isn’t strictly true. He has Down’s Syndrome and is disabled. I look away as her dad helps him out of the car.

*