Out of season, it’s almost deserted, apart from the occasional dog-walker or angler digging up worms. It’s where Dad and I rode and raced and ribbed each other. Looking at this golden horseshoe of a beach, I realise it’s the last place I remember being happy and totally worry-free. We all decided...
The brush of soft fur against my forehead. Small teeth pulling at the threads in my sleeve. ‘Morning, Furball,’ I say sleepily. When I open my eyes, her two pink ones are staring at me intently. ‘What’s up?’ Furball turns and hops out of my bedroom, heading towards the front door. I crawl off my ...