“Quickly,” said Roxy when we were out of the garage. “What’s your cell number?”

She gave me this wide-eyed look of disbelief when I told her I didn’t have a phone. Honestly, if I’d said I had a pet crocodile, she couldn’t have looked more horrified. I didn’t tell her about our money problems, about how my dad said we didn’t need another monthly bill in the house. Instead I gave her our landline number.

“I’ll call you,” I said. “It’ll be better that way.”

“And remember—not a word to anyone.”

“Are you sure that’s right? I mean…”

“You heard what he said. Let’s do what he asked, at least for the moment. Otherwise it might make him worse. I don’t want to take that risk, do you?”

I nodded, perhaps a bit reluctantly, but it was a nod nonetheless.

I’ll spare you the telling-off I got from Dad. Lazy, selfish shirker more or less sums it up. Aunty Alice and Uncle Jasper were out on Jasper’s boat, so it meant the rest of the afternoon was spent helping Dad paint Libby’s bedroom walls mauve, unloading the final boxes, moving furniture around, wiping surfaces, and vacuuming so that when Mum got back at about seven from the call center the place would be shipshape, with a casserole in the oven and Dad in a good mood again.

With all the unpacking, I had found a bag of my too-smalls that hadn’t made its way to the charity shop and a woolen blanket I’d never seen before that I figured wouldn’t be missed. I stashed them under my bed for later.

In fact Dad’s mood was good enough that—despite my promise to Roxy—I decided to tell him about Alfie.

I know. But think about it: Alfie was injured, distressed, homeless; his mum had died and as a result he was probably not even thinking straight. To heck with promises: he needed help from an adult.

I’d even worked out how I was going to say it, and probably even taken the breath that would form the words, when I heard Mum’s key in the door. It would have to wait for now.

Except Dad’s good mood didn’t last. Mum hadn’t been back ten minutes and already they were hissing at each other, and I don’t even know what started it off. I heard her say, “I can do without this, Ben, after ten hours of being sworn at by idiots….”

All I knew was that I didn’t want to be around and there was no way I would raise the matter of Alfie right now.

“I’m just popping next door,” I said, sticking my head into the living room, where Dad was leaning against the mantelpiece, head bowed, a pile of opened mail in front of him.

Bills: I could tell that much.

I’m not sure they even heard me.