Misha woke him next. He had missed them coming home, missed the usual havoc and noise Misha brought into the house when Mother and Father weren’t home, but she was suddenly there, standing at the side of the bed and frowning at him.
“Scott says, are you feelin’ better?” she demanded.
“No.”
She scowled. “Daaaarren. S’not the right answer,” she whined.
Darren shrugged, settling back into the pillows. She scrambled up onto the bed and squirmed under his arm for a cuddle, thumping his shoulders with her head when he didn’t hug back. He bit his lip. Maybe he did have the energy to cry after all.
“You feeling any better?”
He shook his head. After a moment, Scott’s heavy tread rolled across the room, and Misha was prised off the bed.
“Come on, Mish-Mash. Darren’s not feeling well, so leav
