‘That is because it is food for horses. Everyone knows that.’

‘Well I think marzipan is food for … rabbits. Or squirrels. Nut-loving squirrels.’

‘I think it’s illegal to give marzipan to a squirrel,’ said Issy.

‘I wouldn’t know, I missed squirrel marzipan week at school,’ said Austin.

There was a silence. Issy thought she would burst with longing. Why was he calling? Had something changed? Had he changed his mind?

‘So?’ she said.

‘Um,’ said Austin. He didn’t know how to get the next bit out without sounding like the most terrible heel. ‘The thing is,’ he said. ‘I have to stay on here a bit longer …’

Issy’s heart dropped out through her feet like a plummeting lift. She felt it crack and go, all the way down down down, and smash to bits, far, far below.

All she said was, ‘Oh.’

‘And, hem. Well. I wondered …’

‘I can’t come out again,’ she said, quickly, fiercely. ‘I can’t. Don’t do that to me, Austin.’

Oh Christ, thought Austin. This was going even worse than he’d thought. Although he realised that as he’d made the call, there’d been a bit of him wondering if she might possibly say, ‘Darling. Let’s forget the last week. Let me fly back over. Let’s give it another shot.’

Of course she couldn’t. She was up to her elbows in marzipan. He was mad.

‘Um, no. No. Of course not,’ he muttered. He wondered what Merv would say if he were here. Something straight and to the point, he imagined.

‘I wondered if I could have your mother’s number.’

Issy almost burst out laughing, but she knew that if she did, the tears would be right behind.

‘For what, a date?’ she said.

‘No, no … for Darny. To help with Darny.’

‘What, because I flounced off?’ she said.

‘No,’ said Austin. ‘You did what you had to do. For him really. He liked her.’

‘She liked him.’

‘So, maybe … I mean, just while I’ve got a few things to do …’

This would be Austin’s life from now on, Issy realised. He would always have a few things to do. His phone would always be ringing; his work would always be his priority.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to text it to you when I hang up.’

There was a pause. Neither of them quite knew whether this meant she was about to hang up; and if so, how final it was.

‘Issy,’ said Austin, eventually.

That was too much. She choked.

‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t say it. Please. Just don’t. I’ll text you the number.’

‘No Christmas?’ said Darny, gazing at Marian in sheer amazement. ‘How can that even be?’

‘Don’t you do religion at school?’ grumbled Marian.

‘Yeah,’ said Darny. ‘We do how all religions are super-great. It’s rubbish. And I got kicked out of the class anyway for going on about the Inquisition.’

‘They aren’t allowed to teach the Inquisition?’

‘I brought a book of pictures in,’ shrugged Darny. ‘Kelise Flaherty threw up all over the whiteboard. Well, she was the first one to throw up.’

Marian’s lips twitched. ‘You remind me of someone,’ she said. ‘Anyway, we have something much cooler. It’s called Hanukkah.’

‘Oh yeah. My mate Joel has that. He says it’s rubbish.’

‘But you get a present every night for eight nights! It’s the festival of lights.’

‘He says the presents get really rubbish by the end, and him and his sister complained and drew Christmas trees all over the place, so his parents just gave up in the end and had Christmas too. So now he has Hanukkah and Christmas.’ He glanced up at Marian. ‘Maybe I’ll do that.’

‘Maybe,’ said Marian. ‘But it’s very disrespectful.’

‘Good,’ said Darny, kicking his chair. His feet didn’t quite reach the bottom of the bar stool he was sitting on so he could sip his root beer float.

‘Do you like getting into trouble?’ asked Marian gently.

Darny shrugged. ‘S’all right. If I get into trouble with the teachers, I get into less trouble with the big kids. So, you know. On balance. Teachers hit less.’

Marian smiled. ‘I know what you mean. I just used to bunk off all the time.’

‘I do that too,’ said Darny. ‘Only problem is, where we live, everybody knows us. I get spotted by busybodies all the time and they tell Austin and he sighs and makes those big puppy-dog eyes at me. It’s rubbish. I wish I lived where nobody knew me. Where did you go when you bunked off?’

‘I used to go to the fairground,’ said Marian. ‘They gave me free goes on the rides.’

‘Really?’ said Darny. ‘That sounds amazing.’

‘Well, it had certain … consequences,’ said Marian. ‘I would say I paid for it in the end.’

‘Is that a metaphor?’ said Darny. ‘Or am I meant to understand it right away?’

‘You are far too smart for your age,’ said Marian. ‘If there was a way of making young people understand any of it, and then actually act on it – ha. Well, I’m sure they’d have discovered it by now. But your mistakes are all yours to make.’

She handed him a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

‘What’s this?’ said Darny. ‘Can I open it now?’

‘Have you not been listening to me at all?’ said Marian, but with a smile in her croaky voice. ‘Of course you can open it.’

Darny did. It was a small square wooden spinning top covered in letters. Marian had expected him to be dismissive of it, but had hoped to explain where it came from and what it meant. She liked this boy. He had something about him.

Instead of casting it aside as a child’s toy, though, he picked it up and held it carefully and looked at it from all angles.

‘I can’t read the letters,’ he said. ‘They’re weird, like something out of Ben Ten: Alien Force. Which blows.’

‘It’s a dreidel,’ said Marian. ‘You can play games with it.’

Darny spun it in his hands.