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DAD AND LUKE WERE REARRANGING FURNITURE. We had a two-seater sofa and two armchairs. You couldn’t see the TV very well whichever way round they moved them. Or you couldn’t get from the kitchen area to the sitting-room part without climbing over the back of the sofa.

Dad muttered, “There’s not enough room to swing a cat.”

Luke said, “We haven’t got a cat.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Luke.”

“I’m not stupid, I know what it means.”

“We’ve got too much stuff so, cat or no cat, something’s got to go. We’ll have to do without one of the armchairs.”

“But that means there’ll only be three seats.”

“Well, there’s only three of us, Luke. Three seats, three people; do the maths.”

“But what if someone comes round?”

“Like who?”

Luke huffed and rolled his eyes. He said under his breath, “No wonder Cally doesn’t want to speak to you.”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Dad muttered.

Dad and Luke carried the armchair downstairs. They left it outside the front with a note saying ‘Free to Good Home’.

Dad packed up Mum’s old cooking equipment because we didn’t have enough cupboards for it to live in. He packed up the books and photo albums, and his guitar, mumbling it was broken; all the things that hadn’t been touched for over a year were put back in the boxes.

Dad looked at his watch, said he had to go and meet up with some people from work. “Find somewhere for those boxes, Luke. I won’t be long.”

But Luke didn’t. He was too busy on his computer, swerving racing cars round corners. So I took them, to make sure we kept everything, dragged the armchair through the passageway and tipped it sideways to get it through the back door, put everything in the shed. I took my drawing things and put them in there too.

All the walls were browny-orange in the shed and it smelled of new paint. It had been empty except for a big umbrella. I tucked my feet under, curled up in the armchair. It was like having my own house, big inside, and full of important things.

I drew a picture of Homeless with Mum in her raincoat and hat and left an empty bubble for her to say something. I looked at the picture and imagined telling Mum what colour I wanted my bedroom painted and she said, Just like the depths of the ocean, or the evening sky. I said, “How come you can’t see stars in the daytime?” And she said, I was never any good at science, but I do know that lights shine best in the dark. And I said, “That’s why we have fireworks at night,” and she laughed.