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from Liam lately.”
    I nearly tell her about his birthday, but something stops me. “No,” I say – and then, like I don’t care, “There’d be no point.”
    â€œThat lad singing,” she says, “put me in mind of him.” Wincing, she eases her shoulders. “I hope he’s happier now.”

Chapter Six
    Sunday. Mum’s voice, amused, breaks into my thoughts. “Are you going to sit reading all morning?”
    She can’t have noticed that I’ve barely turned a page. I’ve been dreaming the dreams I usually save for when I’m staring out to sea – where only the sand reads my thoughts about Liam. Millions of billions of trillions of grains of sand, all washed away in one powerful frothy suck. I know one day there’ll be someone else. There has to be. This can’t be it. I’m sixteen.
    I stand up and lean against the sink. Through the window I watch a family carry picnic things towards the dunes. The mum looks fed up, and I want to call out and tell her how lucky she is. Mum hears their voices. “Why don’t you get some fresh air?” she says. “Take Toffee out.”
    I turn away from the window. “Okay.”
    â€œYou could go and see those twins at Kirsty’s.”
    Yes, I think. I’ll do that.
    Weekends at the Kellys’ are the same as any other day. Like Mrs Kelly says, “No peace for the wicked!” The house is a complete contrast to ours. I think of Mum: quiet, longing for a nap that will take her somewhere pain-free. Today at Kirsty’s, with these twins, it’s non-stop jabbering. Mind you, I’ve heard it noisier than this. While Liam was here, there was a kid who could only talk at full volume; shouted every word. Turned out his mum was going deaf and he’d forgotten how to speak normally. He wasn’t here for long. His dad got back off the oil rig, and his mum came out of hospital.
    Good as gold, Toffee sits beside me while I help Kirsty give the twins their dinner. I’m feeding the little boy while Kirsty feeds the girl. My toddler, Aidan, is easy to deal with – apart from grabbing the spoon and wanting to feed himself.
    Mrs Kelly checks a tin of roast potatoes in the oven, then folds flour into the buns she’s making. “Amy, love, let Aidan try on his own.” I do what she suggests, but the spoonful of pasta in tomato sauce flies over his shoulder. Toffee catches it in mid-air, and we all double up laughing. The other twin, Eleanor – food smeared over half her face – beams at me. While she’s still grinning, Kirsty manages to slip a spoonful of pasta into her mouth, instead of onto her eyebrows. Kirsty and I plough on, until Mrs Kelly says she thinks we’ve done our bit with their first course. Pudding is easier. Little pots of fruity yogurt quickly vanish.
    Sunlight from the door into the hallway is suddenly blotted out. I look up. This must be the teenager. Wow, he’s big… Not actually fat, just man-sized. Shoulders like he’s built for American football. Kirsty waves a little plastic spoon at him. “Hi, Shaun – this is Amy.” He pulls out a chair and sits at the table. “What’ve you been doing?” she says.
    He shrugs, and biceps like a weightlifter’s bulge out of his short-sleeved grey T-shirt. “Nothing.”
    I want to tell him he must have done something , even if it’s only breathing, but that would be cruel because he doesn’t look happy.
    Kirsty and I exchange glances. We carry on making a fuss of the twins, and she says, “Shaun’s coming to our school.”
    He looks at Mrs Kelly and says, “Am I?”
    How weird – him not knowing which school he’s going to.
    Mrs Kelly stops stirring the bun mixture. “Yes, you are…I thought I told you.”
    I look at Shaun’s big round face. Something that, to me, would be so important, doesn’t