‘Come on, man – we’ll be late!’

‘Do I look all right?’

‘Seb, man, you can wear what you like so long as it’s clean, Susan said. It won’t make any difference to your ugly mug, anyway.’

At one point, not very long ago, Seb would have complained at that. He’d have whinged. He’d have threatened to tell Mam that I was being mean. I’d have sneered back at him, and then we’d be fighting and Mam would have to separate us, and …

Oh, you get what I mean. Instead, he says, ‘No – your ugly mug.’

I know: hardly top-class banter, but he’s only seven. Anyway, we’re on our way out of the front door when Fit Billy and Mam emerge from the kitchen where they’ve been chatting all morning. Honestly, the amount of tea he drinks at our place, I sometimes wonder if he simply doesn’t have a kettle of his own. They’re supposed to paint the new fence today, like it’s a two-person job. They’re grinning like mad.

‘Boys!’ says Mam, with a funny catch in her voice. ‘Where are you going?’

I stop in the doorway. ‘Sorry, Mam. Susan’s invited us over for Tibetan butter tea and cake. She says she’s got a special surprise and not to be late.’

Mam’s eyebrows go up. ‘Really? For both of you? Only me and Billy have got a surprise as well, haven’t we, Bill? Something to tell you.’

Billy nods and puts his big arm round Mam, which is a bit unusual, but maybe she’s cold because the front door’s still open.

‘Don’t worry,’ says Billy. ‘It’ll wait, won’t it, Mary?’ He winks at her as we run down the path.

In Susan’s garden, the strong breeze is making the prayer flags flap so noisily that the people there are raising their voices a bit to be heard.

Susan meets me and Seb at the back gate and leads us down the path. She says, ‘Look at you two – smart and shiny!’

There are people there I have never seen before, plus Mola in a grand-looking crimson sarong. Everyone is dressed up, and I’m glad I put my best shirt on. There is a table laid out, and I spot butter cake and one or two other things I don’t recognise among normal stuff like sandwiches and crisps.

‘You must be Malcolm,’ says a slim lady with hair exactly like Susan’s and the widest, warmest smile. ‘And Sebastian. Tenzin – I mean, Susan – has told me all about your … ah, adventures. I am Susan’s mum. Or “mam” I believe you say here.’

‘Very pleathed to meet you,’ says Seb through a mouthful of butter cake. Susan’s mum pretends not to notice that he has sprayed her with crumbs, and grins back. ‘You too, Sebastian. We are very lucky you are here. Now excuse me.’ She glances at the sky. ‘The rain may not hold off much longer. We need to get on.’

She moves away and claps her hands together. People put their teacups down and stop talking while Susan’s mum takes a deep breath and begins a little speech.

Of course, it’s in Tibetan. Seb looks at me, puzzled, but I just shrug. People seem to murmur approval, and there’s the occasional ripple of applause. At one point, Susan’s mum breaks off to dab her eyes, and people go, ‘Awww!’ and smile.

I look around for Susan. Where is she? She can help me understand just what’s going on. I notice a little table supporting the framed photograph of the Dalai Lama decorated with flowers and some tealights flickering inside long glass tubes.

I edge over to Mola, who is smiling with such force that I can’t help grinning as well.

‘Mola,’ I hiss through my smile. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Shh. Special guest coming out now!’

As she says this, everyone turns and from inside the house shuffles Dennis, with a man holding his lead. Everybody chuckles and cheers and claps, and so do I because I’ve guessed what is happening, and I’m pleased for Susan that she gets to keep Dennis.

She’ll certainly be a very responsible owner of an older dog and I’m very happy for her. Mind you … it’s a lot of fuss to go to for adopting a dog!

People, including Susan, are crowding round the new arrival, and chattering with delight. There’s a clap of thunder, and people go, ‘Oooh!’, while the wind picks up and further rattles the prayer flags. One or two people are carrying plates indoors as the first spots of rain come and amid the hubbub I lean over to Mola and say, ‘Susan must be very happy.’

‘Oh yes. Now she has her dad, she is very happy girl.’

I nod and smile.

Hang on. Wait.

What? I didn’t hear properly. She didn’t say dog, did she?

‘I’m sorry, Mola. What did you say?’

‘I say, now she has her dad, she is very happy girl!’

Her … her … Oh my God!

Seconds later, I’ve pushed through the people surrounding them, and I’m whooping with delight for her, and I’ve grabbed her in a big hug and spun her round and then I’ve hugged her very startled-looking dad, who I’m not at all surprised to see looks just like he did in the dream, and he smiles and hugs me back; I’ve even hugged Dennis.

And there, with the rain spotting my shirt and the wind flapping the flags to a frenzy, and Susan smiling and Sebastian scratching Dennis’s head, I understand just how lucky I have been.