One morning, during the year when I was thirteen, Pete came into school with some terrible news.

‘My mum and dad have decided to send me to a grammar school,’ he told me.

It seemed they had decided that our school wasn’t getting the best out of him or something, so he was moving on to try to fulfil his potential somewhere else. Maybe they still thought I was a bad influence and it was me they were trying to separate him from. I didn’t know what a grammar school was, but I did know that I probably wouldn’t be seeing Pete any more once he’d gone there. I assumed that he would almost certainly just disappear out of my life in the way that Wally had, however much he might protest to the contrary. The idea of losing my one good friend seemed unbearable and I broke down in front of him, crying like a baby – something I don’t think I would have done in front of anyone except him or Wally.

‘I can’t manage without you,’ I sobbed.

‘Yeah you can, we’ll stay in touch,’ he promised, trying to soften the blow, trying to sound casual about the whole thing, as though it was no big deal.

‘No, you won’t,’ I said. ‘You say you will, but you won’t, not once you have new friends.’

‘I will,’ he protested, but I could see that he was no more convinced of the truth of that than I was.

I didn’t blame him for moving on. I just knew he wouldn’t keep in touch and I didn’t want to be left hanging around waiting for him to get in contact, as I had for so long with Wally. That had been such a huge let-down that I still couldn’t think about it without feeling deeply hurt. I didn’t want to be the one who was chasing after Pete and constantly finding he was too busy with his new friends or with his homework or his important exams to be able to spend time with me. I knew only too well how painful it was to hold out hope for something and then to be disappointed yet again. I preferred to face the truth at the beginning, make a clean break and cope with it as best I could. I had to accept that I was going to lose Pete, my only real friend, and that was the end of it.

It was a Monday morning when he broke the news and his words kept going round and round in my head as I sat in my early lessons. I was in a state of shock, even less able to concentrate on anything the teachers were saying than usual. Pete was the only good thing in my life and I couldn’t see any point in continuing to go to school without him there. I didn’t need him to protect me from the bullies any more, but I knew that I wasn’t gaining anything from the classes because I was falling so far behind, so if I couldn’t hang out with Pete between classes it all seemed like a big waste of time. As long as I was still in school I had to go home every night to the nightmare of my family life, but if I left school I just might be able to walk away from my whole life: Mum, Amani, Larry, Barry and the vile Uncle Douglas. It was as though a light bulb had suddenly gone on in my head as I began to think practically about running away from school and home and my entire past.

I’d thought about running away before, of course, a million times – especially when I had been lying in the cellar at home or in one of the little bedrooms at Douglas’s house. But I had never been able to think of a concrete plan of how to do it or where to go. I’d never actually thought I would get away with it and I knew that when I was inevitably brought back by the police I would be bound to have to face terrible consequences, so I had never found the nerve to go through with it. Having Pete’s friendship during school weekdays had been just enough to keep me from having a go. But now that restraint was being lifted, and I was getting older. I was a teenager, so was it really such an unreasonable idea to start my adult life a bit early?

I felt a rising beat of excitement in my heart as the idea blossomed into a definite plan. When I was a small child I’d known I would be caught quickly and taken straight back to Mum, who would have beaten me to a pulp for daring to do such a thing, but I wouldn’t be so conspicuous on the streets now that I was older, and I would be able to look after myself better. At least I could talk now, and being friends with Pete had taught me a lot about being more confident in the world. I reasoned that if I could just keep myself hidden and out of everyone’s way for a few years I would be old enough to stay away from home legally. I would be free to live my own life, away from all the people who wanted to hurt me and keep me as their slave. How could life on the run be any worse than life at home and at Uncle Douglas’s, even if I was forced to live rough for a while? If I could survive for three years in a cellar, surely I could survive anywhere?

Once the idea had taken root it suddenly seemed like the obvious way out of everything that made my life a misery. I decided to act immediately. I didn’t want to endure another night of humiliation, pain and abuse at home if I didn’t have to; in fact, the idea of going home ever again suddenly seemed intolerable compared with the temptation of the big wide outside world. I knew that I would have an hour at dinnertime when no one would notice I had gone; that would be my chance to get away.

‘I’ve got to go home,’ I told Pete when we met as usual after the last morning lesson. ‘I don’t feel well.’

‘Who’s coming to get you?’ he asked. ‘The bitch?’

He’d always referred to Mum in that way, ever since she’d told him to ‘fuck off out of it’ at our front door.

‘Yeah,’ I lied. ‘Will you tell the teachers for me?’

‘Sure,’ he shrugged. Maybe he could tell I was acting strangely but if he could, he probably put it down as my reaction to his news.

I went into the dinner room and collected together as much food as I could carry without drawing attention to myself, stuffing it into my pockets while no one was looking. I then strolled as casually as I could manage from the dinner room to the cloakroom and went through everyone’s pockets and bags looking for cash. I also scooped up any items of clothing that I thought would be useful once I had discarded my school uniform. I felt guilty about stealing from the other kids but I had gone into survival mode and I knew I wouldn’t last long on the run without any money, and I couldn’t walk about in my school uniform or I would be hauled over and asked some questions.

When I was ready, I strolled out of the school gates as calmly as my thumping heart would let me, and just kept walking without looking back. I kept on going for hours, putting as many miles as possible between me and my past, marching away from the built-up areas and out into the countryside to a beautiful area well known to holidaymakers during the summer. Campers, tourists and hikers all came to this part of the world in summer but I was pretty sure there was no chance of me bumping into anyone I knew since it was only March.

I’d studied some survival books in the library when I had first learned to read, fantasizing about surviving in the wild somewhere on my own, living on my wits, and I imagined I had learned enough to be able to get away with it. My plan was to build a camp in the woods somewhere and live like Tarzan did in the movies – maybe even making friends with the animals as he did. Animals would be a lot more reliable than people had ever turned out to be. Any hardships I might face in the wild were going to be nothing compared to what I had survived at home, I was sure of that. The further I got from home, the more optimistic I felt that I was going to get away with it, that all my pain and suffering were finally over. I was a free man now and I could put my childhood behind me as I got on with the rest of my life.

By seven o’clock that evening I felt I had walked far enough to be safe from anyone who might by now be searching for me and I began to look around for somewhere to sleep for my first night. I was passing an isolated group of big detached houses when I came across about a dozen kids playing together after their tea. It was nice to see some friendly faces, people who knew nothing about me or my past, and I stopped to talk to them. They were very posh, their voices much more like Pete’s than like mine. Their houses looked like mansions to me.

‘Where are you from?’ a boy who introduced himself as John asked.

‘I’m just visiting the area,’ I said vaguely.

‘Why have you got a bag?’ he asked, gesturing at my school backpack, which now held all my worldly possessions.

‘None of your business,’ I replied.

‘Do you want to play football?’ he said, changing the subject without seeming in the least put out by my surliness.

‘Okay.’

I accepted the invitation readily, hungry for any company and friendship I could find. It felt nice to be with a group of kids who accepted me without knowing anything about my background. They didn’t know me as the smelly, mute boy who couldn’t read or write very well for his age. To them I was just an interesting stranger who had wandered into their comfortable, secluded little world. They actually seemed to like me for myself. They tried asking me more questions and I managed to make my answers vague enough to sound convincing and friendly without giving anything away.

‘Are you going to be here tomorrow?’ John asked when it was finally too dark to see the football and it came time for them to go home for the night.

‘Yes,’ I said, thinking this would be as good a place as any to stop for a while, especially if it meant I had a ready-made group of friends.

‘We’ll see you then.’

Once they’d gone, shouting their goodbyes, waving cheerily as they ran off into the darkness, the night suddenly seemed very quiet and the air uncomfortably cold. Being out under the immense night sky was a daunting feeling since I had spent so much of my life trapped in confined spaces, but the feeling of liberation was exciting at the same time. The illuminated windows of the big, solid-looking homes that my new friends had disappeared into seemed very tempting as I turned and walked away into the deepening gloom to look for somewhere to spend the night. I could see I wasn’t going to have time to build myself a shelter as I’d sort of imagined I would, but I would still need to find some protection from the cold. Winter hadn’t long passed, and the air was already losing its daytime heat.

My way was lit only just enough by the stars and moon for me to be able to see the world in silhouette around me, but I found a railway line and decided to follow the tracks to make sure I didn’t get too lost in the dark shadows of the surrounding trees. I had brought a torch with me, which I had found in someone’s bag in the school cloakroom, but I didn’t want to use up the batteries unnecessarily, since I didn’t know how long it would be before I got a chance to replace them. I was also nervous about drawing attention to my presence there.

I had only gone a couple of hundred yards from the houses when I came across a workman’s hut by the side of the track. The door wasn’t locked so I pushed my way in, shining the torch around the dusty interior. The beam picked up some old bits of equipment, most of which looked as if it had been long forgotten, and some stored railway sleepers, giant blocks of solid wood which looked as though they had been left there since the lines were first laid. I doubted if anyone used the hut any more, especially at night. It smelled strongly of tar and oil but I had slept amongst far worse smells than that in my time. Perfect, I thought. My own little home in the wild. I pushed the door shut behind me, pulled away some of the cobwebs and managed to find myself a dry corner where I could lie down. I’d been walking for seven hours and then played football so it wasn’t long before I fell into a deep sleep, only occasionally woken by the cold.

When the daylight finally returned and I poked my nose out round the door, the countryside was just as deserted as it had been when I went to bed. The only sounds came from the wind and birds in the trees. I decided to explore and went to hide my backpack in some nearby woods, not wanting to carry it around but fearing that some workmen might come to the hut during the day and find it if I left it there. It contained all the possessions I had in the world so I couldn’t afford to lose it.

My newfound friends were in school during the day so I passed the long hours playing on my own in the woods. I enjoyed my newfound freedom but I’d finished all the food I’d brought with me from the school dinner room and hunger pains were growling ominously in my stomach like an approaching thunderstorm. All day I was looking forward to seeing John and the other kids when they came out again after school and I was waiting outside their houses for ages before they finally appeared. When John and his sister emerged through their gates I could see that they were looking for me, hoping I would be there, eager to talk, which was a nice feeling.

‘What house are you staying at?’ John asked as we sat waiting for the others to join us. ‘Because we know everyone in the area.’

‘Over there,’ I said, waving in a vague direction, eager to change the subject.

‘But last night you said it was over there,’ he protested, obviously puzzled and intrigued at the same time.

‘It’s a farm over the bridge,’ I said, because I had passed several in my journey.

‘Which one?’ his sister was intrigued now too. ‘Our mum and dad know all the farmers.’

Obviously they had been talking about me at home and their parents had shown an interest. I began to feel a little panicked but forced myself to stay calm.

‘Okay,’ I said, unable to think of any way out. ‘I’ll be straight with you. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone?’

They nodded solemnly, their eyes wide in anticipation of hearing something amazing. Everyone loves to be told a secret.

‘I’m a runaway.’

It was the first time I had actually said the word out loud and the dramatic sound of it quite surprised me.

They both gasped and there was a moment’s silence as they took in this astounding fact, followed by a torrent of questions.

‘Why?’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Who have you run away from?’

‘Where are you sleeping?’

‘What are you going to do now?’

I explained that my mum hurt me and was threatening to kill me.

‘If they find me,’ I said, ‘the police will take me back home and she will really hurt me.’

I made them swear over and over again not to tell anyone, not even the other members of their gang – but not surprisingly it was too juicy a piece of news for them to be able to keep it to themselves and within five minutes of turning up all the other kids in the group knew about it. I guess every child must dream about running away from home at one time or another, and now they had met someone who had actually done it and they wanted to be part of the adventure themselves. Football was forgotten – they just wanted to sit around and talk and plan my future with me. Everyone was talking at once.

‘Okay,’ John said after a while, ‘we’ll make a pact. We won’t tell anyone, and we’ll look after you.’

We moved further away from the houses to be sure we wouldn’t be overheard and they got me to sit down and tell them more about the things Mum did to me. They listened with their jaws hanging open. I didn’t tell them about anything sexual, just the beatings and about being locked in a room with no light or food for days on end. It was obvious none of them had ever even realized there was such a thing as child abuse; none of them could even imagine having a mother like mine. She must have sounded like a character from a horror movie, which pretty much sums up what she was like. I could see they were deeply shocked and that they truly did want to do something to help.

‘So where did you stay last night?’ John’s sister wanted to know

I pointed down the track to the hut.

‘But wasn’t it really cold in there?’

I shrugged and nodded. ‘It was a bit.’

‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do.’ She was taking charge of the situation now. ‘We’ll go home and steal you some blankets.’

‘No, I’ve got a better idea,’ John overrode her in his enthusiasm. ‘We’ll sneak you into our house and you can hide out under my bed. We can bring you downstairs and feed you whenever my mum and dad go out.’

I was really beginning to panic now. If we started doing all these things it wouldn’t be long before a grown-up suspected what was going on and asked some serious questions. These kids didn’t look like the sorts that would stand up well under interrogation. They were treating the whole thing as a glorified game, like any child from a normal background would, but to me it was deadly serious, a matter of life and death. If I was caught and taken home now I was pretty sure Mum would lose the plot completely and might very well kill me in her next explosion of temper.

‘I don’t think that would work,’ I said, not wanting to sound ungrateful. ‘But I am quite hungry.’

‘Okay,’ John said, jumping up, ‘we’ll get you a feast.’

‘Don’t go mad,’ I said. ‘Don’t take anything anyone will miss. We don’t want to arouse their suspicions.’

Despite me pleading with them to show some restraint they had decided what they wanted to do and were too excited to be reasoned with. They all dashed off back to their homes, telling me to wait for them in my hut.

Once inside their houses they went mad, emptying their parents’ cupboards, bringing me down armfuls of bedclothes and carrier bags full of food, turning the hut into a little home from home, like a cross between a children’s camp and Santa’s grotto. Not all of it had been completely thought through – such as the tins of baked beans that came without a tin opener – but there was still enough for me to eat my fill as they babbled on about their plans for my future and how they were going to care for me and hide me. It felt a bit as though I was a pet dog again, but at least now I was a cherished family pet, not a despised one.

‘You’ll be our best runaway friend,’ they said as they proudly showed me everything they had stolen for me, ‘and we’ll never tell anyone that you’re here.’

On their record so far I didn’t have too much faith in them being able to keep such an exciting secret from their families for long, but it still felt nice to be the centre of so much friendly attention and I was grateful for the bedclothes and the food. The contrast between the way they were looking after me in that hut, and the way Mum and Amani and the rest of them had looked after me in the past, when I was just a small child, touched me and made me feel sad at the same time. Why didn’t my own family want to look after me like this? I decided to stop worrying about things I could do nothing about and just enjoy my good fortune for a few days before moving on. All the bad stuff was behind me now, I reminded myself. I didn’t need to think about it any more.

My new friends were obviously nervous about leaving me on my own that night and didn’t want to tear themselves away and go back to their houses. I expect they half wanted to camp out with me and share the adventure for a bit longer, but as it grew later I was getting increasingly nervous that their parents would wonder where they were and would come looking for them. I begged them to go back home before that happened.

‘What if some strange man comes past and hurts you?’ John’s sister asked and the others all agreed.

‘They won’t,’ I assured them, desperately wanting them to go now. ‘It’s dark enough, no one will see me.’

‘Wild animals might eat you,’ someone else suggested.

‘No, really,’ I insisted. ‘I’ll be all right.’

I kept on trying to convince them it was safe to leave me, stressing again how important it was that they didn’t tell another soul about me. They promised and I know they did intend to do their best. Eventually they reluctantly agreed to leave me and I settled down under the blankets for a warmer night’s sleep than the night before, my stomach feeling comfortably full.

For the next few days my friends came to see me after school each evening, bringing more and more supplies, far more than I needed or could actually eat. On the fifth night John took me to one side and put forward a new proposition.

‘Why don’t you come and live with us?’ he suggested, and I could tell he’d been thinking about it a lot, probably talking it through with his sister. ‘You could be my older brother. If I tell my mum and dad that your mum is nasty to you they could adopt you and you could stay with us permanently.’

I couldn’t deny that it sounded like a tempting option, but I was old enough and experienced enough to know that the chances of something like that happening were less than slight. I knew Mum would never give me up unless someone paid her enough money to compensate her for her financial losses. I was worth too much to her in potential earnings and she wouldn’t want to give me the chance of being happy anyway. I also couldn’t imagine that these kids’ parents would be too thrilled about taking in a stray child with learning difficulties and a history of behavioural problems just because their own children asked them to.

‘No,’ I said, more vehemently than I had intended. ‘I’m happy here. Honestly.’

That night John decided he needed to get me some hot food for a change. While sitting at the family dinner table he started secretly putting roast potatoes into a bag and then announced he needed to go to the toilet. He dashed down to the hut to give them to me before they went cold but when he returned to the dinner table ten minutes later his mum wanted to know where he’d been.

‘I’ve been in the toilet,’ he lied.

‘No, you haven’t,’ she said, ‘because I looked. I saw you outside.’

‘There was a stray dog out there,’ he said, his brain racing to find a convincing cover story. ‘I felt sorry for him.’

Despite his quick cover-up, his mother’s suspicions had been raised. She had already noticed how many items had been disappearing from the kitchen cupboards over the previous few evenings and obviously felt that she was onto something. She certainly didn’t believe that her son was feeding a stray dog with tins of beans, loaves of bread, bottles of milk and packets of cereal. The questions went on and on until eventually my friend’s inability to tell bare-faced lies to his own mother got the better of him and he confessed the whole story. I suspect he was relieved to get it off his conscience; he wasn’t the sort of boy who would have been comfortable lying to his parents, even if it was in what he thought was a good cause.

I had no idea of any of this as I settled down to sleep for another night in my hut. The first I knew that something was wrong was when I was woken later that night by the sound of footsteps outside, crunching through the shingle on the track. Immediately alert I threw off the stolen bedclothes and knelt by the door, peering out through a crack, my heart pounding as I tried to assess the danger. I could see the beam of a torch coming towards me. The figure holding it looked too tall to be one of the kids, and the footfall was too heavy, more like the scrunch of an adult man’s boots. Not sure what to do next, I leaned my whole weight against the door, wedging it with my foot, buying myself a few seconds to think. I assumed it must be a railway maintenance man doing some night work and I began to plan how I would get out the door and past him before he had a chance to grab me and before any of his mates turned up.

The footsteps stopped directly outside the door and a thin slither of torchlight came in through the crack making me instinctively dodge back out of its path.

‘Who’s in there?’ a man’s voice enquired. ‘Joe, is that you?’

Now I was confused; how did the stranger in the dark know my name?

‘I’m a police officer.’

‘Fuck off!’ I shouted, unable to think of anything intelligent to say in the circumstances. I was thinking about the policeman who used to come to my cellar and to Douglas’s house and shivering at the prospect of being arrested and falling back into their hands.

‘There’s a few people worried about you,’ he persisted. His voice sounded kind and concerned but I’d been fooled like that before and I wasn’t falling for it again – not now I’d had a taste of freedom.

‘Like fuck they are!’ I shouted.

‘Come on; open the door, Joe, please. I need to see if you’re okay.’

‘I am, so fuck off.’

‘But I need to see for myself that you’re all right. Please open the door. I don’t want to have to kick it in and hurt you because that wouldn’t be nice, would it? I really am a policeman and if you open the door a little you’ll be able to see my uniform. These people up here are your friends and they’re worried about you.’

‘Fucking grasses!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t want to go back. Please, can’t you just leave me alone? Forget you even heard about me. Please.’

‘I can’t lad, no, sorry. My duty is to make sure you are protected.’

I could tell he wasn’t going to change his mind and just go away. If I stayed where I was, I was trapped. If he came in, I would be cornered and it would be harder to get away than if I was outside. I made a decision and opened the door, letting him think he had won me over with his reasonableness and his promise of protection. I stepped out with my bag over my shoulder and he took a firm hold of my wrist to make sure I didn’t do a runner. I didn’t like the feeling after being free for a few days; it reminded me of all the other times I had been gripped by adult hands and pulled in one direction or another, but I didn’t struggle. It wouldn’t have been worth it and he would only have tightened his hold on me. He was too strong for me to be able to wriggle free; I just had to hope that an opportunity would arise for me to get away before he had me under lock and key. As we made our way up towards the road we had to get over a steep bank. I could tell he was having difficulties, his feet sliding out from under him and only one hand free to support himself when he was in danger of falling.

‘You don’t have to hold me that hard,’ I protested, realizing it was going to be difficult for him to negotiate this obstacle with me attached to him. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You’re not going to run now, are you?’ he asked, sounding a bit doubtful at the prospect of loosening his grip. ‘You promise me?’

‘No, of course not. I promise you.’ Everyone else made promises that they didn’t intend to keep, I thought, so why should I be any different? I was willing to do anything I could to stay out of Mum’s clutches.

The moment I felt his fingers slacken I tore free and was off into the night. I could hear him shouting after me. ‘Joe, come back here.’ But I didn’t turn round and in my fear and desperation I must have put on a real burst of speed, despite tripping several times on the many unseen obstacles in my path, because I had soon pulled away into the darkness. I left him trailing along behind until eventually even the beam of his torch had disappeared from sight. It’s surprising how much energy fear will give you when you need it. I found out later that the police searched for me for the next couple of days, and I did see the odd police car circling around as I watched from my next hiding place, but they didn’t seem to be putting their whole hearts into it. I guess they thought I would turn up sooner or later, that I wouldn’t have the necessary skills to survive for long in the wild on my own.

Once I was confident I had got away from him I slowed down, stumbling round in circles through the woods until I came into a deserted summer campsite. There I found an empty log cabin that had been locked up for the winter. The lock on the door was flimsy and I managed to force my way in with one hefty kick. It was more comfortable than the previous hut had been; there was even a bed, which I threw myself down onto, my heart pounding from the exertions of the night. The cabin was dry and clean, but it was still cold once I had cooled down again after the running. All my bedclothes had been left behind in the hut and I didn’t think it would be wise to go back for anything the next day in case the police were still watching it. I imagined that the kids’ families would probably have reclaimed their property by then anyway. I didn’t know how long it would be before someone came to open the cabin up for the summer, but I thought it would do as a hideout until the police had stopped bothering to look for me at least.

I stayed in the cabin for several days, living off the remains of the food supplies that I had been keeping in my bag, rationing them out carefully to make them last, seeing no one. The following Sunday I was wandering around the empty campsite for yet another day, keeping myself entertained as best I could. The site had given me a lot of space and quiet to be alone with my own thoughts. I was used to being on my own, so that wasn’t a problem. I was content to mooch around looking for things to salvage and things to eat with nobody else to interfere with me or boss me about. I wasn’t giving the future too much serious thought, but I suppose I imagined I would just keep moving from place to place over the coming years, scrounging enough food to survive as I went, maybe getting the odd job here and there for pocket money. Being alone in the woods was so much better than being at home, or spending the weekend at Douglas’s house, that I didn’t give much thought to anything else. If I let myself think about it, I missed Pete and I sometimes wondered what was happening to my brother Thomas. We were never bosom buddies the way I was with Pete, but I knew he had a bad time at home and I worried about him.

It was evening and the light was beginning to fade when I heard some kids’ voices in the woods close to the cabin. I dived back inside and watched through the corner of the window to see if they had any adults with them. When they came into sight I saw it was John and his sister, who I guessed had been the ones to grass on me. I should have kept quiet and waited for them to move on but I felt so angry with them for telling the grown-ups about me being in the railway hut after all the promises they had made that I couldn’t stop myself from going out to give them a piece of my mind. Maybe I needed someone to talk to as well, wanting to alleviate the boredom and loneliness a bit.

They nearly jumped out of their skins when I suddenly appeared on the path in front of them.

‘Why did you grass on me?’ I demanded. ‘You said you wanted to be my friend and to persuade your family to adopt me as your brother and then you go and fucking grass on me!’

‘I was worried about you,’ John said, obviously excited to have found me again but nervous about how I would react to them. He didn’t want to scare me away again. ‘But you got away. They’re looking everywhere for you. There’s been a big search party and everything.’

I couldn’t stay mad at them for long and once I had calmed down they promised that this time they really wouldn’t tell anyone about where I was – but I knew I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone and every time I forgot that rule I ended up being let down again.

‘Can we get you any food or blankets?’ he asked.

‘Just leave me alone,’ I said, not wanting to push my luck.

I could see they weren’t going to do that, however much I pleaded. It was still all too much of an adventure for them, and they did seem to be genuinely concerned about me.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said, ‘go back and get me some food then.’

‘You stay here with Joe,’ John told his sister, ‘and I’ll go back.’ I guess he didn’t trust me either and was worried I would run away again the moment they were gone.

‘They’ll know if you come back without me and take food,’ his sister said. ‘They’ll expect us to be together.’

‘Okay,’ he said, doubtfully. ‘Promise you won’t go anywhere, Joe?’

‘I promise,’ I lied.

The moment they were out of sight I grabbed my bag and ran off into the woods. There was no one in the world I was going to trust any more if it meant I might be taken back home. It wasn’t that I doubted their good intentions; I just thought there would be a strong chance the adults would be watching them and would immediately work out what was going on if they saw more food disappearing from the house. I was going to have to stay on my own if I wanted to be safe; there was no other option. This was how my life was going to have to be until I was old enough for the police not to be bothered about me any more.