There's no way Donald will take me, I think. But I ask nicely anyway and he just sort of stares at me for a bit over his paper and then grumbles and gets up and gets his car keys. We don't talk all the way there. Which is fine. I prefer it not talking. I stare out the window until we arrive at the garden centre.

Like before, when we're out of the car Donald makes me hold his hand. Won't let go for a second. Won't let me out of his sight. I hate it but I do it anyway. The police have been by to talk to them again, and it made Maisie cry. I think that's why Donald is so angry. Not because I ran away but because the whole thing has made Maisie so sad and touchy.

I buy Donald a tie, because he likes wearing ties. This one has a picture of the Road Runner on. I buy Maisie a wooden spoon with a musical note cut out of the bowl. I don’t know what she likes, but I know she’ll think it’s cute and probably use it all the time.

On the way back out Donald lets go of my hand. When he drove me to school yesterday he put me into the car like he was arresting me. Now he lets me go around the front of the car myself holding the little bag with the things we bought in and with a big tube of wrapping paper sticking way out of the top. I climb in and put the bag down by my feet and do up my seatbelt without being told.

On the way home Donald turns on the radio. The car fills with a blast of Christmas music, which I hate. I go to change the station and Donald doesn't stop me.