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nibbling my fingernail instead.
    Louise is updating them on the last few months in my life. How I witnessed a boy being stabbed, and how one of the people standing trial for the killing is my best friend Arron. How another one of the accused – Jukes White – comes from a family of gangsters who want me silenced. How I’d been given a new identity and sent to a new school but had to be moved on – ‘Ty can tell youthe details another time,’ she says. Yeah, right, that’s really going to happen. And then she starts to tell them about how Alistair got shot.
    My attention wanders. On top of the piano are hundreds of photographs, all in silver frames. I can see weddings and christenings, children in school uniform and happy family portraits. I count one, two, three weddings. There are loads of children; they must have a big family, but I stare at one – a little boy with dark, tangled hair and three older sisters. He must have a hard life, that boy. The girls look pretty bossy.
    I’ve lost the thread of Lou’s story. I’m trying to tune out the recent stuff, Alistair . . . shooting . . . police. The words float in the air around me. But then I hear her say, ‘So that’s when I rang you. I don’t trust the police to keep him safe any more, and Mum needs to concentrate on Nicki, now that she’s expecting.’
    I jump forward. My teacup clatters to the floor and rolls on to the rug. She couldn’t really have said . . . have meant. . .
    â€˜Nicki’s what? What are you talking about?’ My voice is hoarse and croaky.
    Louise’s hand is over her mouth. Helen is biting her lower lip. Lou shakes her head and says, ‘Ty, I’m sorry. Ty, darling – I thought you knew. Didn’t she tell you?’
    â€˜No one told me anything. What’s going on?’
    â€˜That’s why she contacted Alistair again. To tell him she was having his baby.’
    â€˜But . . . they hardly even knew each other . . . it was only the one night. . .’ I’m so shocked, that I’ve forgotten that these friends of hers are listening. I’m just trying to work it out.
    Patrick snorts, ‘Typical,’ he says. I’d know that tone anywhere.
    Helen tuts at him, and Lou says, ‘Steady, Ty,’ but I leap to my feet. Teacups fly in all directions. The days are over when I let people disrespect my mum. My hands turn to fists and my arms tense up.
    I step towards him, breathing hard. He’s frowning at me. I yell, ‘Shut up! Or I’ll make you!’

CHAPTER 3
The Wolf
    I don’t
think
I would actually have hit him, but no one ever finds out because an enormous wolf-like creature flies at me, snarling and howling. It jumps at my chest, sending me crashing backwards onto the floor, and its huge jaw is right in my face, with a deafening noise and toxic smell. Flying gobs of saliva blind me, as its razor-sharp yellow teeth tear at my throat.
    The next thing I know the wolf-monster is gone. I’m sitting on the floor with my back against the sofa and Helen’s handing me a cup. I take a big gulp and almost choke. I was expecting water, but it’s burning my throat and judging by the smell it’s the stuff that the old tramps drink in the park . . . meths, that’s it.
    â€˜Urgh . . . what the hell?’ I say, tears streaming down my face, and she says, ‘It’s brandy, for shock.’
    I’m touching my neck and face to check everything’s still there. Miraculously there’s no gushing blood or tattered flesh. ‘Has the wolf gone?’ I ask, looking nervously around the room.
    Louise is on the sofa next to me, hand on my shoulder, and I think she’s trying not to laugh.
    â€˜It was a dog, Ty darling. Wolves live in the zoo, not people’s houses.’
    My face is hot. I knew that it was a dog, obviously. It’s just that the wrong word came out. Where I come from, a dog is a