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  I frown, but he doesn't offer me any more. His cheeks are pinker today, and he doesn't look so pale. He's got a jumper on over his pyjamas.

  ‘Are you still sick?’

  Harry smiles then. ‘I'm always sick.’ He pushes himself away from the doorway ‘I can show you around if you like?’

  He's walking away from me before I have the chance to reply. I hesitate before following him. Does he even want me to? But he glances back at me.

  ‘My ward's next door,’ he says. He stops beside a closed door a few metres along. ‘Want to see?’

  I do, sort of, at least I don't want to go down to the cafe yet to hear how sick Dad really is. But this feels weird. I don't even know him. No one's ever this friendly unless they want something.

  ‘I should go back,’ I start to say.

  Harry shrugs, then turns to press numbers into a keypad beside the door. He waits for it to click, and holds it open.

  ‘It's a bit mad in here,’ he says, nodding his head towards the corridor inside. ‘Very different to Coronary Care.’ He keeps holding the door for me.

  So I go through.

  The first thing I notice is that everything's pink. Bright pink. The walls and the floor, even the desk at the entrance and the chairs next to it. The only thing that's not is the ceiling, which is a sky-blue colour with cloud shapes painted on it here and there. There's noise too. I can hear music and talking and a television talkshow, and a young child is crying. Harry leads me through the centre of it all. He waves at a nurse who's walking towards us.

  ‘This is Isla,’ he says to her.

  The nurse raises her eyebrows at me as we pass and I wonder if she thinks I'm Harry's girlfriend. I look away quickly, glance at a clock on the wall: 9.45 am. Mum will be at the cafe soon.

  I peer in the rooms leading off the corridor, trying to understand it all. There are children everywhere: in the beds, playing games with parents, sitting on couches in a bright purple room. A small boy with no hair at all walks past us.

  ‘What is this place?’ I murmur.

  ‘Children's cancer ward.’

  I stop dead then, right in the middle of the corridor. ‘You have cancer? Really?’

  Harry turns back to me, his forehead wrinkling a bit. ‘Well, I'm not in here for fun.’ He watches me carefully. ‘Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia. Mad, hey?’

  He pulls a face. But I don't laugh like I think he wants me to. I'm too confused. I try to keep from staring at his hair. It looks so thick. He doesn't look like he has cancer.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He squawks out a laugh. ‘I think three years of treatment's pretty sure. But right now I'm in remission, which means the cancer's gone away for a while, so they're only topping me up with chemo when I need it . . . to keep it that way.’ He catches my gaze. ‘And my hair's hanging in there, just. In a few days time, though, it might be a different story.’

  ‘But you don't even look sick,’ I say. ‘Not today anyway.’

  ‘That's cos I've got someone else's blood in me.’ His eyes twinkle as they register my confusion. He leans towards me to whisper, ‘Blood transfusion, not vampire. In case you were wondering.’

  I smile a little then. He's so confident. He's acting like it's the most natural thing in the world that he has cancer. But he must be pretty sick. Maybe even as sick as Dad. It almost doesn't seem fair that he looks so much healthier. I don't meet his gaze, glance round the corridor instead. In a room opposite us, there's a girl looking at me from a bed. She looks exhausted, barely awake. Suddenly I feel as if I'm intruding.

  ‘Am I even allowed here?’ I ask. ‘It feels kind of weird.’

  ‘You're with me, it's fine.’

  ‘I don't even know you, not really.’

  ‘Does it matter? I don't know any of the other kids in here either.’ He starts walking again. ‘Besides it's a paeds ward so there's no visiting hours.’

  ‘Paeds ward?’

  ‘For young people.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, they think we get lonely so it's always open house. Anyway . . .’

  He stops beside an open door. I look into the room. There are two beds inside, but only one looks like it's been slept in. The walls are lime green and there's a big flatscreen TV. It looks about as different from Dad's room as possible.

  ‘I'm the oldest one here,’ Harry explains. ‘So I don't have to share with anyone, not if I don't want to.’

  ‘This is your room?’

  ‘For the moment . . . if someone has to go into isolation, I might have to move.’

  I think he wants me to go in, but I hesitate. I mean, it's kind of his bedroom after all. ‘How long have you been here?’

  He thinks. ‘On and off, for the past three weeks. I was getting treatment at home before that. But Mum kind of needs to go back to work, so they brought me in.’

  He walks ahead of me into his room. ‘Come see my view,’ he says.

  His window stretches across the whole of the wall; it's so much bigger than the window in Dad's ward. It lets in loads more light. He walks over to it. The sunlight turns his skin pale as a ghost.

  He beckons me in. ‘Don't worry, you can't catch it from me.’

  I look away from his grin and to the window. I can see a lake, surrounded by trees, and I start forward before I realise. My eyes scan across the water, checking to see if the whoopers have gone there.

  ‘I've been watching this lake for ages,’ Harry says. ‘I almost told you yesterday when you said about the Harry Bramblings. Reckon there's any down there?’

  I cringe, wait for the teasing. But Harry keeps quiet, genuinely interested.

  ‘Maybe,‘ I say quietly. ‘It's a bit early for them yet.’

  His face falls. ‘So what do these bramblings look like?’

  ‘They're kind of small, orangey . . .’

  ‘Kind of like me then.’

  I look at him. ‘A little. You'd never see one from up here though.’

  I think he's about to say something else about bramblings, so I turn back to study the lake. There's a clump of ducks in one corner, and something else darting in and out of the reeds along the edge. We're too far away to see properly.

  Then I see something. Just one. I can't work out whether it's a whooper or a mute from here, but it's definitely a swan. Its feathers look greyish and young. My breath catches in my throat as I think about that lone grey whooper flying away from the power cables that day . . . all on her own. Perhaps it's her.

  ‘What is it?’ Harry asks.

  ‘Just a swan, maybe a whooper. Maybe part of the flock we've been chasing.’

  ‘Chasing?’

  I turn to Harry to explain how Dad and I always follow the whooper flock; how they weren't on their normal reserve because of the new power lines. ‘It's what Dad and I were watching when he had his heart attack thing,’ I say.

  Harry's mouth turns down at the corners. ‘I didn't mean to bring up your dad,‘ he says, ‘or what happened . . . ’

  ‘It's OK.’ I turn back to the window and try harder to work out if it's a whooper. ‘Dad will cheer up once I tell him there's a swan here. Honest.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I smile. ‘He's kind of obsessed with them.’

  CHAPTER 17

  Harry takes me down to where the cafe is.

  ‘You'll be OK with your mum, yeah?’ he asks in the lift.

  I look at him carefully, wonder why he's so concerned. ‘You can meet her if you like,’ I say.

  ‘Nah.’ Harry shakes his head, looking suddenly embarrassed. He gets out of the lift and points to where I can already see the cafe in the entrance hall. Mum and Jack are sitting at a table to the side. Mum looks up and sees me. I wave, feeling a little guilty that I'm late.

  ‘See you around,’ Harry says. ‘Remember it's an open access ward, so you can visit whenever.’

  ‘I'll try.’

  Mum pushes a paper cup of hot chocolate into my hands. It's lukewarm. ‘We thought you'd got lost,
’ she says.

  ‘Sorry. I kind of did.’ I press my face into Mum's neck in a sort of hug.

  Jack's frowning when I look at him. ‘Who was that?’ he asks. He looks back to the lifts, to where Harry must have disappeared.

  I shrug. ‘Just a guy I met in the corridors. He's called Harry.’

  Mum laughs a little, though I think she's more puzzled than happy. ‘Only you could make friends in a hospital, babe. Can you drink that on the go?’

  I nod, trail behind her with the cup in my hand. We're silent in the car. Mum's really tired, and I think Jack's shocked by how Dad looks.

  ‘What happens next?’ I say quietly.

  Mum looks at me in the rear-view mirror. She knows instantly what I mean. ‘They're going to do some tests, see what the problem really is. He might have to have an operation later in the week. But he's stable, for now. You don't need to worry.’

  But her words don't sound certain enough.

  When we get back to the house, Jack gets his football from the garage. ‘I'm going to the park,’ he calls back to Mum.

  ‘Can I come?’ I say quickly. I don't want to go in the house yet; don't want to sit with Mum and not know what to say about Dad. I'd rather be with people, anyone . . . even if they are Jack's friends. If Saskia were here, I'd go to her house.

  Jack hesitates, scrunches up his face as he thinks. It's obvious he doesn't want me there, but he nods anyway. Don't know why. Perhaps he feels sorry for me. He kicks his football down the street, bouncing it off telegraph poles and small front walls. I hang back a few metres.

  There are four of Jack's mates waiting on the play equipment: Deano, Jez, Rav and Crowy. I know them all. They're sprawled on top of the wooden castle structure, legs hanging down over the climbing wall. I glance quickly at Crowy, but of course he's not looking at me. He's got his head down, drawing something with a marker pen onto the top of the slide. His long hair falls down across his face. I force my eyes away before he looks up and finds me staring.

  There are a couple of girls from Jack's year there, perched on the swings. Jack glances over at me when he sees them, and I know what that look means. Don't be an idiot, Isla, don't show me up in front of everyone. I smile at them all. One of the girls does this little half-wave at me. I recognise her from when I was in the athletics team in the summer. I think her name is Jess. I'm about to ask her when Deano and Jez call down ‘hi’ to me. They're friendlier than usual. Perhaps Jack's already told them about Dad; how I was the one who had to call the ambulance. I look back at Crowy, but I don't think he's even noticed I'm here yet.

  I drape myself against the edge of the swing structure. It's hard to look like I fit in when I know they all think of me as Jack's little sister. So I just watch Jack smack the ball against the climbing wall. The ball bounces off the fake rocks that are stuck there and comes back to Jack at awkward angles. Jack lifts his knee and stops it easily. He's so good at controlling the ball; at moving it into the places he wants it to go. So much better than me.

  Jess, the girl who half-waved, tries talking to me, starts asking about my weekend, and I wonder whether she knows about Dad too. I tell her, briefly; skim over what happened. She nods politely and pulls her features into an expression that looks almost sympathetic. Maybe she's just trying to impress my brother. I don't know. Either way, I feel really awkward talking about this with her. She's making all these soothing noises like she really cares. When the conversation dries up, I look down at where my shoes are scuffing into the woodchips. I want to ask her about her weekend, but it feels really stupid now after what I've just said about mine.

  The boys jump down from the castle to play footy. And there's this awkward moment where I don't know whether to go with them or to keep hanging with the girls. But Crowy stops and looks back at the swings.

  ‘We need to make our teams even,’ he says. I think he's talking to all of us, but for a second it feels like he's just talking to me. He flashes a grin then; one of those perfect ones where his teeth seem so white and straight. And then he really does look at me. ‘You're a good player,’ he says, raising his eyebrows.

  The other girl on the swing giggles as Crowy jogs away. I hear her start to mumble something as I follow him. I turn around to them.

  ‘I'm sure you could both play too,’ I say. ‘The boys won't mind.’

  The girls just smile and shrug. ‘Maybe later,’ Jess says.

  They're not really dressed for football, I can see that now. I think it's probably the last thing they had in mind.

  The boys mark goals with their jumpers. I play on Jack and Crowy's team. I'm glad about that, glad Jack's let me play with him. Glad Crowy has, too. I glance around at the others. No one seems annoyed that I'm here, no one even cares. They just want to get on with the game.

  ‘If you get the ball, just run it down,’ Jack says to me quietly. ‘Then pass it back to me. Don't try and shoot.’

  He knows as well as I do what I'm good at. I breathe out slowly, stretch out the muscles in my legs. My body's tingling to run, desperate to stop thinking about Dad.

  Jack kicks the ball deep into the other half to start the game. Deano's onto it immediately, but Crowy slides in and tackles him. He's really good, maybe even better than Jack. I keep out of the action for a while, watching the way they exchange passes. They keep pace with each other, running down the pitch. They seem to always know where the other one's going to be. It reminds me of how the swans fly: that silent communication and support . . . that perfect formation. I watch Crowy sidestep around Deano and then Rav, twisting with the ball, then flick it across to Jack. He makes it look so effortless.

  Jack stops for a moment to push hair from his eyes. He sees me and hesitates. I'm in a good position. And Jez is right there, about to tackle him. He doesn't have much choice. He holds my gaze as he kicks the ball crossfield towards me.

  I stop it with a soft thud. Control it. It's my big moment, my chance to prove myself. But already Deano's running towards me. I have to be quick. I head out towards the wing and really run. It's clear up ahead, everyone else is still back near Jack. I don't think they were expecting him to kick it out to me. I focus on getting to the makeshift goal, focus on knocking the ball ahead of me. I stretch out my legs. It feels good. It feels so good to be running so fast, to have everyone else behind me. From the corner of my eye I see Deano trying to catch me. Jack's running hard too, speeding down the other side of the pitch, not wanting me to get to the goal before he does. Even he can't catch me. And he's fast, usually faster than me. But not today.

  When I get to the goal, there's still no one anywhere near me. So I just run it straight in. I'm too worried I'm going to miss if I kick it. I grin as I do. Shake my fist. I've just scored my first goal in front of my brother's mates. It feels amazing. I look back at them, find Crowy's face. He's grinning, too, holding his hands up above his head and clapping. Then suddenly Deano and Jack have caught up with me. They're panting hard, and both are glaring. I can understand why Deano's mad, but Jack? He jogs up to me, pulls his T-shirt up to wipe his face.

  ‘I said I'd get the goals,’ he growls.

  He leans over, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. But I feel great, as if I could keep running for days. I walk over to him, poke him in the ribs.

  ‘Aren't you glad I did?’ I say, smirking at him.

  I start laughing. It starts as a small giggle, but then I can't control myself. I have to sit down on the grass I'm laughing so much. I press my hands to the damp ground and try to hold it in, but that just makes me snort. Jack looks down at me. He's still glaring at first, wanting me to shut up, but then even he starts smiling. He can't help it.

  ‘You're a loon,’ he mutters.

  ‘But I'm a fast loon!’ I'm still laughing so hard I can hardly get the words out.

  ‘All right, I'll give you that.’ Jack straightens up then, sticks his hand down for me to grab. He pulls me back up to my feet. ‘Come on then, loon, the game's not over just b
ecause you score one goal.’

  When I run back to position, I'm bouncing from foot to foot, eager to do it all again. I look across and see Crowy laughing at me. And then I realise. I haven't thought about Dad for ages, I've been having too much fun. It makes me feel guilty straight away.

  CHAPTER 18

  All the way to school, I try to convince Mum to let me stay with her.

  ‘I just want to be with Dad,’ I say. ‘We're not learning anything at school now anyway. Just gearing up to Christmas.’

  And it's true, we're not doing much and I do want to be with Dad. But it's more than that. The thought of going back to school now, after this weekend, without Saskia and with everything that's happened, just seems unbearable. Mum relents in the end.

  ‘OK, I'll ask school if you can miss a day.’ She catches my grin by looking in the rear-view mirror. ‘But don't think you can make it a habit.’

  ‘I don't know why I can't miss school too,’ Jack grumbles.

  ‘Exams, that's why.’ Mum pulls into the teacher's car park and keeps the car running. ‘I won't be long.’ She jogs into the office.

  I glance around at the rest of the car park and hope that none of my teachers arrive while I'm here. Jack walks slowly to the school gates and Crowy comes out to meet him. I swallow quickly and almost wish I'd walked in with Jack. I watch as Crowy chucks his arm around Jack's shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. I imagine what it might feel like to have his breath on my ear. Then he starts laughing. I stare at his hair, which is way past the regulation collar length, and remember the way he grinned at me yesterday. He doesn't look across for me this time.

  Mum comes out of the office with her thumbs raised. ‘Piece of cake,’ she says as she gets into the car. She turns around to me before she drives off. ‘The lady said you can have as much time off as you need.’

  I clamber over the gear stick to get into the front seat. I stick my feet up onto the dashboard and watch the city shoot past. Even though I know it's going to be hard to visit Dad, it still feels like I'm escaping. Without Saskia there, school's worse than ever. As Mum drives faster, my eyes follow the edges of the clouds. I imagine I'm a bird flying up there, keeping pace with the car. I'm looking for the whoopers really, trying to catch a glimpse of them so I can tell Dad.