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side-rails of the bridge. Choc scrabbled indignantly but clambered on, and then whisked round to poke his nose out under the rails, as if to ask her what on earth they were doing.
    â€œIt’s all right, I’m coming too.” Amy hauled herself up and rolled sideways on to the bridge. “Come on.” She snapped her fingers, and he scurried after her down the sloping bridge to the little turret at the end of the climbing frame. “Look, it’s perfect, you see,” Amy murmured to him. “No one can see us. The rain won’t get in it, and it’s just about big enough to stretch out in my sleeping bag.” She set the rucksack down in the corner of the dusty little space and sighed. It was a bit gloomy. Running away felt as though it ought to be more exciting somehow. She unzipped her rucksack. Maybe a biscuit would help.
    Choc sniffed his way around the edge of the little room, and then put his nose out of the little doorway. He saw no reason to stay inside, and the two little girls were sitting on a bench not far away, eating raisins. He liked raisins.
    â€œChoc, no!” Amy hissed as he set off, tail wagging, and head held sideways in his trademark shy-but-starved-dog pose. She lunged for his collar and grabbed him back. “Look, it’s OK, you can have one of my iced rings. You have to stay here. You aren’t allowed in the playground. No dogs.”
    Choc gave her an affronted look – Amy didn’t usually grab at him like that. But he accepted an iced ring delicately, crunching it between his teeth, and then nosed hopefully at Amy for another.
    She handed it to him without really looking. She was peering out of the doorway, wondering if the two mums had spotted him. They would be just the kind of people who’d make a big fuss. She could sort of see why; he wasn’t supposed to be there. But he wasn’t doing any harm.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    Amy jumped, and almost hit her head on the wooden door frame. The boys with the skateboards were on the wobbly bridge that was the other way to her turret, staring down at her.
    â€œNothing,” she stammered, trying not to look behind her at Choc, who was sniffing inside her rucksack. He could probably smell the cola bottles.
    â€œGive us a biscuit,” one of the boys demanded.
    Amy wanted to say no – those biscuits were her dinner. But she didn’t dare. She stood up and held up the packet to him, but he took the whole thing, passing them all round his mates and smirking at her. Then he threw the empty plastic tray back down. “Thanks!” he told her, and the rest of them snorted with laughter and went stomping off, jumping up and down across the rope bridge as though they were trying to shake one another off.
    Amy gulped. She could feel her eyes filling with tears, and she didn’t want them to see her crying. She ducked back inside the little turret, but it didn’t feel as safe any more. Maybe she should find somewhere else. She stuffed the empty tray back into her rucksack, and then gasped.
    Where was Choc?

Amy burst out of her hiding place, scrabbling at her rucksack and sleeping bag. Where was he? He must have slipped out while those boys were nicking her biscuits. She stopped worrying about the two fussy mothers and ran out into the middle of the playground, shouting, “Choc! Choc!”
    The boys hooted with laughter at her, but then one of them dropped down from the metal rings and pointed. “Are you calling your dog? Was that him?”
    Amy whirled round and saw a small dark shape disappearing across the park, back towards the pond. “Yes! Thanks!” she called, waving to the boy as she scrambled up the sloping path after Choc. Her sleeping bag was coming out of its stuff-sack and trailing along the ground, but she couldn’t stop to sort it out. She couldn’t actually see Choc any more now. He must have vanished into the trees around the pond.
    But