Obviously, it isn’t mine, because I’ve just stolen it, but I can’t say that, can I? The girl squints, first at me, with small almost-black eyes, then at the bag. It’s bashed up now, and its bottom is ripped.

Did this girl hear the commotion: the dog barking, the lady shouting at me? If she did, then she’s not showing it.

‘Erm … no. That is, y-yes. I-it’s mine,’ I stammer. She smiles and holds it out to me. The old lady in the sarong exchanges a few words with her in a language that sounds sort of Chinese, but how would I know?

Then the old lady points at me. I look down at my chest, which is stinging from the bad scraping it received. You know when you graze your knee? It’s like that but about a hundred times bigger and more painful. My hoodie’s flapping open in the breeze, and blood is starting to ooze through my T-shirt.

‘Are you all right?’ says the girl. Her voice is concerned and kind of posh: she’s definitely not from around here. She steps forward, then from a pocket in her skirt she takes out a glasses case and carefully puts the specs on to look at my bloody T-shirt. ‘My grandmother says you should come inside. We can put something on that. We were meditating, but we can carry on later.’

Meditating?

I just want to get out of there as quickly as I can, so I say, ‘No thanks. I’m fine. Really I am.’ I even manage a brave grin. ‘Just a little scratch.’

She nods, then looks at me very directly. ‘What were you doing?’

‘Erm … nothing, really. You see, I … erm … I was heading home when this dog started chasing me and, you know, I had to get away from it, so I got rid of the bag so I could run faster and then I jumped over your wall, and sorry to intrude, and …’

Stop babbling, Malky!

‘… And, anyway, I’d better be off. Thanks. Ha ha!’ I start walking down the path that runs round the garden.

All the way through this, the girl has let me talk, a peaceful half-smile on her face as if nothing surprises her and nothing bothers her. Her blacker-than-black hair is similar to the old lady’s but longer, and her skin shines as though she has just stepped out of the bath. In fact, everything about her looks new: her freshly pressed tartan skirt, white knee-socks, plain blue sweater. It’s like she has dressed in her best clothes just to sit in the garden under some flags.

The old lady’s angry face has gone, and she now has the same expression as the girl. ‘Serene’ I suppose you’d call it. (Also ‘unnerving’ and ‘maybe slightly unhinged’.)

‘You are going the wrong way,’ the girl says, and points to an iron gate in the wall, twisted with weeds. ‘Follow me, I will let you out. You need to make sure the dog has gone.’

I walk after her. She punches a code into a pad at the side of the metal gate and it pops open as much as the weeds will allow. I slip through into the back lane and glance up and down: there is no sign of Dennis, or his owner. In the half-light of the evening, I can see drops of blood leading back along the lane.

The girl holds out the bag. ‘Don’t forget this.’

‘Oh, er … thanks,’ I say.

‘What is so valuable?’ she says.

I look down. ‘Ah … it’s just, you know … stuff. Some stuff. I erm … found it.’

She knows you’re lying, Malky.

She nods as if I’m making perfect sense. ‘Stuff? Well, goodbye then. I expect I will see you at school, assuming you are at Marden Middle School?’

I nod. ‘How did you know?’

She points at my hoodie. It’s a faded school one, with the school’s crest printed on it. Mam bought it at a second-hand sale last year.

‘That’s a clue.’

She holds out her hand to shake, like she is a grown-up. ‘Susan,’ she says. ‘Susan Tenzin. I am in Mrs Farroukh’s class.’ Clahss. Her hand is still held out, so I shake it.

‘Hi. I mean, how do you do? Very pleased to meet you. Malcolm Bell.’

Perhaps the ‘how do you do’ is going a bit far, but she just says, ‘I hope the bleeding stops soon.’ She is about to shut the gate when from the other direction the old lady reappears, holding something in her hand and scuttling along on her little legs at a speed that would be impressive for someone half her age. Susan’s shoulders drop and she mutters, ‘Oh no,’ almost under her breath.

The old lady draws level with me and holds out a small package of brown paper.

I take it warily. She scrunches up her round face in a smile, showing yellow teeth, and then mimes rubbing something into her chest. I look at Susan, puzzled.

‘It is … a remedy. You should rub it on your chest, she says, for the wound.’ Susan sounds doubtful.

‘Oh, erm … thanks. What is it?’ I lift the packet to my nose and sniff, and immediately wish I hadn’t. I get a whiff of cheese and old trainers.

‘It is what we call dri. It is yak’s butter. Erm … rancid yak’s butter.’ Susan sounds a bit embarrassed.

Well, this is awkward. I look between the two of them. Remember, I’ve just dropped into their meditation session, I’m now hurrying away and I’ve been given a stinking packet of rotten butter, like the world’s worst party bag. The old lady is clearly thrilled and says the first words in English I’ve heard her speak.

‘You will be better soon. Dri is best!’

I nod, more enthusiastically than I feel, but it seems polite. As she goes to shut the gate, Susan leans in and says in a quiet voice, ‘To tell the truth, you may be better off with something else. Savlon, antiseptic spray, anything, really.’ Then she gives a little half-smile. ‘See you tomorrow, smart and shiny!’

She closes the gate and I’m back in the lane, as though I’ve just woken from a strange dream.

There’s something still bothering me, though, as I wipe the last of Dennis’s poo from my shoe on a patch of grass. ‘Smart and shiny!’ the girl had said. She means the school uniform, I guess, and it makes me swallow nervously. I’m wearing a maroon hoodie with MMS – the school’s initials – in big white letters on the back.

Which means the woman with the dog will have seen it.

What with my hair, and the school hoodie … she’s bound to find me.

And did I mention that I’m on my last chance at school? Probably not, actually. It’s a bit of a problem. Well. More than a bit.

Not as much of a problem, though, as what is inside the bag I stole. But I only find that out later.