Long-Lost Son: Brand-New Family

Luke followed her deeper into the room, and they both bent down to Rowdy, who instinctively hid the chocolate in his hands.

‘Show me?’ Luke said gently.

He opened his son’s fingers, to find the last couple of battered-looking, dirt-encrusted squares, then picked up the piece of torn wrapper he saw on the floor. It was soaking wet, as was the plastic bag it had apparently been stored in. He also found grit and clay and chocolate crumbs.

‘Oh, shoot!’ Georgie said. ‘This is from Saturday night. The supplies Charles packed for us. We left it with Rowdy and Max, Alistair and me, when we had to wait out the worst of the storm. It’s been through a cyclone, down a mineshaft and up in a chopper. Where have you been keeping this, Rowdy? Hidden here under the bed? You didn’t have to do that! This is all dirty and gritty from the mineshaft, we should have thrown it away. You can tell us when you’re hungry, OK, lovey. I know, you don’t like talking, but you can rub your tummy or point to the fridge. Eating isn’t something we need to do in secret, my sweetheart! Never, never!’

She took the last few squares of chocolate out of a sticky but quiescent little hand, gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze and stood up.

‘I really need to go,’ she said to Luke. ‘I’ll phone Alistair on my way across and he’ll be home with Max in a few minutes. Find a story to read, and don’t give him a hard time about the chocolate.’

‘You think I would?’

‘Sorry. Bossiness gets to be a habit.’

‘Thanks for it, Georgie. You’ve…helped tonight.’

So she left, and Rowdy didn’t seem to mind, and Luke found a Thomas the Tank book, suggested pyjamas, teeth-brushing and toilet, then sat on the uncomfortable edge of the camp stretcher while Rowdy tucked himself under the thin summer sheet and they read about naughty trains.