‘Good grief, is that toast dry?’ Nell says at breakfast the next morning.

I nod and gulp; there’s nothing in the cupboards to put on it, and better dry toast than nothing.

She rolls her eyes. Pulling a £10 note from her shirt pocket, she hands it to me. ‘There’s a shop in the village. Get what you need.’

I think she’s trying to be nice. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to be held responsible for me starving to death.

The village is called Bexton. It’s about two miles away, through the woods and across some fields. Borage comes with me, though after last night I’m surprised Nell trusts me with her dog.

‘Just make sure you bring him back in one piece,’ is all she says.

As I set off, I feel my mood lift. It’s better to be doing something. I hate sitting around, waiting for news from Mum. Darkling Wood looks different this morning. The trees are bare because it’s winter, and as the sun sparkles through their branches, I can almost see to the fields beyond. It’s so quiet here. No cars. No buses. No radios blaring. An aeroplane passes overhead but even that’s silent.

All along the fence are the trees Nell says will be cut down first because their roots are nearest to the house. Their trunks are marked with a white spray-painted X like they’ve got the plague or something. I’ve almost reached the gate when I see what’s been left on the gatepost.

It’s my bobble hat, covered in dew. Someone must’ve found it. It’s been folded up very neatly and turned inside out.

I can’t help grinning. So Borage didn’t maul my hat to death after all. Perhaps it’s a sign the day’s getting better. Shaking off the dew, I turn my hat back the right way again and put it on. Then I go through the gate.

I remember this bit of the path. It starts off narrow, then disappears completely. Borage charges along, dragging me behind him. It’s not exactly fun. These aren’t tidy woods like the ones near home with a cinder path running through the middle. We used to go there on a Sunday sometimes, back when Theo could still ride his bike.

Darkling Wood is messy, full of dead leaves and brambles. It’s easy to imagine tree roots pushing through the soil. Growing and growing towards the house and nothing being able to stop them. No wonder Nell wants the trees cut down.

We come out into a clearing. Without leaves, the trees go up and up until they almost curve over and touch each other. The air feels damp and heavy like a wet cloth across my face. I pull my hat down over my ears, shivering. Borage might’ve snatched it off my head in the first place, but dogs don’t return things by leaving them neatly folded on gateposts.

Someone was here last night. In the woods.

A sudden gust of wind makes the trees creak. Borage freezes. His back fur sticks up like he’s sensed something. I wrap his lead round my wrist, bracing myself. There’s no sign of anything. Or anyone. Borage relaxes. As he starts sniffing again, my heartbeat begins to slow. I’m surprised at how jumpy I am.

I feel better once I’ve left the woods behind me and am out in the open fields. The sun is shining. It’s a pretty nice day for November. To my right, at the bottom of the valley is a church and some grey stone houses; Borage heads for them like he knows where he’s going, dragging me behind him down the hill. We end up in the village square, which is where the shop is. It’s got a tatty striped awning at the front and a hook to tie up your dog.

I’m barely through the door when the man behind the counter says, ‘You’ll be Nell Campbell’s granddaughter, then?’

Wow, I think, news travels fast.

There’s one other customer, a man in filthy wellies, who stares at me almost without blinking.

‘Um … yes …’ I try to smile.

Neither of them smiles back.

‘When’s them trees of hers coming down?’ says the counter man, arms folded. ‘She’s got root trouble, so I heard. That wood’s growing too close to the house.’

‘She has,’ I say. ‘I mean … it is.’

‘That still don’t make it right to cut ’em down,’ says the other man. ‘Been there longer than she has, them trees. She can’t just hack down what doesn’t suit her.’

The counter man nods. ‘People round here aren’t happy about what she’s planning, you know – not that the council gives a monkey’s. But the villagers do.’

He stares at me like somehow it’s my fault. I don’t know what to say. Grabbing what I need for cheese and beetroot sandwiches, I hand over Nell’s money and say goodbye. I’m glad to get back outside again.

‘What was that about, eh?’ I say to Borage. He twitches his ears to show he’s listening. Shame he can’t answer as it’s pretty obvious Nell’s not popular round here.

We start the long climb out of the village. This hill’s so steep, I have to stop to catch my breath, and as I do my phone starts ringing. It’s Lexie. In a flash, I dump the bag of shopping and dig into my pocket for my phone.

‘Hey you,’ she says.

It’s so nice to hear her voice.

‘Hey! Are you a big sister yet?’

‘No. False alarm. That baby’s got Mum’s timekeeping abilities, I swear.’

I grin down the phone. ‘Poor Kate!’

Lexie’s got two mums – Kate, her real mum, who’s late for everything, and Jen, her mum’s partner.

‘Is it breaktime now?’ I imagine a normal school day, with boring lessons and then homework, and think how much I’d rather be there than stuck here.

‘Yup. Just had PE. Double Maths is next.’ Then she shouts to someone in the background, ‘I’m taking them off!’

I picture Lexie in the school changing rooms, undoing her football boots. She hates maths but she’s really really good at football. She doesn’t brag about it either, not like a boy would.

‘How was PE?’ I ask.

‘Good,’ she says. ‘Listen, I’m so sad you couldn’t come to ours.’

‘Me too.’

‘How’s Theo?’

‘All right, I think. Mum’s not said much.’

‘That makes a change!’

I try to laugh but Lexie’s right: it’s not like Mum to hold back.

‘Are you okay?’ she says.

I look down at my shopping. Some of it’s tumbled out onto the road.

‘I’m fine,’ I say.

‘What about your grandma? What’s it like there?’

‘She’s odd.’

Lexie giggles.

‘D’you miss me?’ I say.

‘Course I miss you. I’m having to sit next to Bethany Cox all week.’

In the background, a teacher tells Lexie to put her phone away because breaktime’s over.

‘I’ll text you,’ she says.

The teacher speaks again.

‘You’d better go.’

We say goodbye and hang up. I follow the road until I see the same field and the same stile I climbed earlier. My head’s full of home. Talking to Lexie hasn’t really helped; it’s just made me miss it even more.

When I’m back in the woods, Borage starts pulling. His back hair has gone bristly again.

I tug on the lead. ‘Calm down, mister!’

But try as I might, I can’t hold him, not with my right arm being yanked from its socket. I have to let go of the lead. He’s gone within seconds. Convincing myself he’s heading in the direction of the house, I set off after him. I just pray Nell doesn’t find him first.

The woods are silent in that eerie way classrooms are after school has ended. I walk faster.

Then, behind me, something rustles. Thinking it’s Borage, I spin round.

Just a few feet away is a girl in a red coat, frozen to the spot. She’s staring right at me. I stare back. We stay like that for one long second. Then she runs away, through the trees, before I can even say hello.