At home, I went straight up to Fergus’s room and knocked on his door.

Mum was still working. Soph and Dad were still out, but I could see a thin sliver of light coming from underneath Fergus’s door. I knocked gently.

‘Hello?’ I called out. There was no answer, but I heard him shifting inside. ‘Hey, Fergus?’ I tried.

Still nothing.

I lowered myself to the floor and sat cross-legged, facing his bedroom door.

‘Fergus, I know you can hear me,’ I said. ‘And I know you probably won’t answer – but I wanted to tell you that I had a really awful night tonight.

‘Before, Fergus, when I had nights like this, I’d talk to you and you’d tell me a joke to make me feel better. You always knew how to make me feel better.

‘And I understand that you’re mad at me. I understand that. I know I said something that made you feel . . . I know this is my fault.

‘But I lost my two best friends tonight, Gus. Chelsea-Grace and Cleo. We had a fight in the middle of the noodle place, and everyone stared, and it – the fight – it seemed as though it was over nothing but it wasn’t, I don’t think. They say I’ve changed, but I know I haven’t. I know it’s really Chelsea-Grace and Cleo who’ve changed. But that doesn’t matter, in the end, does it? What matters is we’ve changed. 3CD. We’re not the same as we were and that’s . . .

‘I’m scared, Fergus. I’ve lost my only friends, and I feel as if Sophie doesn’t want to be friends with me either anymore, now that she’s at university and has all these grown-up problems. And you . . .

‘Fergus, I want you to know that I know it’s my fault you’re in there. And I want to get you out. I can’t lose Chelsea-Grace and Cleo and Sophie and you. Especially not you.

‘Fergus, you’re my big brother and I want you back. If I figure out a way to get you back, will you . . . would you . . .’

There was still no sound coming from Fergus’s room. I didn’t know if that meant he was listening or ignoring me. I tucked my knees to my chest and leaned my cheek on top of them. My tears soaked through my new patterned tights. I held my hand up to Fergus’s door and placed my palm flat against it.

‘Fergus, I’m sorry I haven’t tried harder,’ I said. ‘I thought you’d snap out of it, but you’re not going to, are you? So it’s up to me to help you, isn’t it? I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet, but I’ll figure it out. I know Sophie thinks I’m naive and dreamy, and Dad thinks I’m just someone to do silly dances with, and Mum – well, Mum’s so busy I don’t even know what she thinks of me; probably that I’m still twelve years old. I can help you, though. I can. I promise I can.’

I got to my feet and stood for a few moments, biting my lip and looking at the door, willing it to swing open; willing my funny, talented, sturdy, determined brother to step out of there, put his arms around me, and hold me in a big bear hug like he used to as he told me everything would be okay.

But I knew that couldn’t happen. Because I knew Fergus didn’t know that anymore.