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Penguin twirled himself around her legs, purring, and Mum laughed.“Yes, you’d like to eat me up a horrible spider, wouldn’t you? Come on, Alfie, I left Jess with a sandwich, she’s probably wrecked the kitchen by now.”

But Jess was still sitting angelically in her high chair, clapping her hands as Dad sang her“London’s Burning”. It was her favourite song, but only he was allowed to sing it for her. It was as if she knew he was a firefighter.

“I saw Mrs Barratt from next door earlier on,” Mum mentioned as she passed Alfie a sandwich.

Alfie nearly dropped it. Had Mrs Barratt seen him? Had she complained that he’d been messing around in her garden?

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“I haven’t seen her for weeks…” Dad murmured through a mouthful of chicken sandwich, not noticing Alfie’s rabbit-in-the-headlights gaze. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She waved to me as I was walking past with Jess in the pushchair. She was just saying goodbye to the meals on wheels people. But she won’t be needing them soon, she said. She was very excited about it.”

“She’s not going into sheltered housing, is she?” Dad asked. “She always said she couldn’t bear the thought of it. She loves that house, even if she hasn’t seen most of it for years.”

Mum smiled.“No, nothing like that. Her daughter’s coming to live with her!”

Dad frowned.“Really? The one she never sees? That’s a surprise.”

Dad did look quite surprised, but it was nothing compared to how Alfie felt. A daughter! That would be someone around Mum’s age, probably. Someone who’d be bound to go upstairs, and look out of the windows, and maybe even try and sort out the jungle of a garden.

“I think Mrs Barratt didn’t get on with Lucy’s husband,” Mum explained. “But now they’ve split up, and Lucy’s coming to stay with her mother for a while. And the best bit is, Lucy’s got a daughter your age, Alfie. She’s missed the first week of school, of course, but you’ll havesomeone next door to play with, isn’t that great?”

Alfie blinked, and Penguin took the opportunity to snatch a bit of chicken that was dangling from his sandwich.

A girl? Next door? Why was this supposed to be good news?

“She’s coming this week sometime. She’ll probably go toour school!” Alfie hissed, panicked, to Oliver the next morning, as they spilled out of the classroom at break.

Oliver nodded.“Mm, probably. But it’s not that bad – Alice and Emily in Year Two live next door to me. I don’t have to hang around with them or anything. Their mum brings me home sometimes, that’s all.”

Alfie snorted. He didn’t want some strange girl and her mum bringing him home. And he didn’t want anyone in his garden.

That was the real problem. Itwasn’t his garden. It never had been. And now he was going to have to give it up.

Oliver frowned suddenly, his dark eyebrows meeting in the middle like furry caterpillars.“What about your tree?” Oliver came over to Alfie’s house every couple of weeks or so, and Alfie had shown him the loose board and the garden next door – after making him swear an elaborate oath of secrecy that had a lot to do with a book about pirates that he’d just read. Oliver was suitably envious of the tree – he only had a baby playhouse in his garden. With curtains.

Alfie stared at him. He felt as though Oliver wasn’t understanding on purpose. “It won’t be my tree, will it?” he snapped. “It’ll be her tree now!” He stomped off, barging Oliver out of the way with his shoulder, and not caring if it hurt. It was Oliver’s fault for being so stupid.

Luckily, Oliver was thick-skinned, and just elbowed Alfie in the ribs at lunch time as a way of getting him back.“No girl’s going to get through all those brambles to the tree,” he pointed out. “You’ll just have to be careful to stay out of her way, that’s all.”

Alfie nodded gratefully.

But Oliver had underestimated the girl next door.

Alfie slid out into the garden when he got home, before Mum could mention homework, or watching Jess while she made dinner. Penguin was asleep in the ironing basket and didn’t seem to want to move, so for once Alfie set off down the garden alone. Even after Oliver had told him not to worry, he still felt miserable as he pushed the board back. Like it might be the last time. He wriggled through the gap, wormed his way along below the level of the brambles and hauled himself up into the tree. The bark was rough against his fingers, but he didn’t care. He settled himself on to his favourite branch and eyed the apple he’d been watching for the past few days. It was a sharp yellowish-green all over, with just a faint brownish flush. Almost perfectly ripe, he thought. And even if it wasn’t, he didn’t want to leave it, in case the girl could climb trees. He twisted it off the stalk, and it came away easily – it was ripe, then.