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said they were so badly built that no-one could ever get a mortgage on them. That’s what they meant by “the other side” of Wishbourne: the council houses and chalets.
    He came to the top of the lane, lost in thought.
    “Are you following me or what?”
    He gasped, as she emerged from a gap in the hedge. He stood and stared at her. There must be a convincing answer, other than “yes”, but he couldn’t think of it right now.
    “I say hel lo . Comprendez vous ? Anyone at home up there?”
    She was standing with her hands on her hips, leaning forward, head jutting.
    “I ... um ... “
    “Joking. That’s what I’m doing: getting a rise.” She patted him on the arm, like an adult humouring a child. “I ask what you’re doing and you’re like...” She let her jaw drop and pulled a goofy expression.
    “So what brings you to the posh side of the village?”
    “I ... the shop.” He gestured with his head as he spoke, nodding in the direction of the village store.
    “And I thought it was me.”
    He stared.
    She laughed. “Me going to the shop, I mean. We could go together, hey? Make an outing of it.”
    He walked with her, wondering what she was up to, what game she was playing. Why was she treating him like this? Pretending to find him interesting when he said barely a word. Smiling and laughing and chattering away.
    In anybody else it would be a character flaw to be so suspicious of everyone, but for Danny it was natural. It was how he survived. He didn’t trust anyone else, and he didn’t trust himself. He was always on his guard. It got him through.
    “Last of the great talkers, are you?”
    “Not much to talk about.”
    “Nobody sees the world through your dark handsome eyes. Nobody knows all the things that you know. What’s in your head, chatterbox? Everyone’s got something to talk about. I’m like, listen to me! Maybe I’m the odd one: I have a thought and I have to share it. I talk less, you talk more, how about that? So what’s in your head, big boy?”
    “Nothing.” He shook his head. They had stopped by the shop front, while Cassie prattled on. “There’s nothing special in my head. I’m just ordinary. Same as everyone else.”
    She looked at him, eyes wide, smirking. “Oh how dull,” she said, and turned, and went into the shop, leaving the door to swing shut against him as he followed.
    A short time later, back at the top of Swiss Lane, she turned to him and said, “I’m sorry if I surprised you, waiting in the hedge like that. Don’t mind me. I’m mad, me.”
    She didn’t know what mad was, Danny thought. She didn’t even begin to know.

5 The start of it all
    Back home, when Danny had finished his homework, he sat and ate a chilli con soya while his mother drank red wine and Oma grumbled about the spiciness of the food.
    Danny sat quietly. Calmly.
    A sound came from the bottom of the stairs up to the flat. It was the clunk of the door.
    “Hello?” Little Rick’s muffled voice came up the stair-well. “Can I come up?”
    Val hurried across the landing and leaned over the railing, gesturing Rick up. “Shush,” she said softly. “Josh is asleep.”
    Rick walked into the kitchen-diner, grinning. “Need to make the most of it,” he said. “I bet he doesn’t sleep much with the teething.”
    He pulled up a chair and sat at the table.
    Oma clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “She leaves the front door open like I tell her not to,” she muttered, poking at the rice with her fork.
    “It’s okay,” said Val. “We’re not in London now. Things are a lot more laid back here at Hope Springs.”
    “Hi, Danny,” said Rick. “Hi, Oma Schmidt.” Omaschmidt .
    She clicked her tongue again, and Danny smirked, then stopped himself.
    “Luke’s been printing posters for the Open Day,” Rick said. “They look good. There are going to be ads in the Crier and Echo , too. It’s about time we tried to pull the local community into Hope Springs. It’s all very well us