Wrecker Charley.

Day 9.  Tuesday.

Five o’ clock. I heard my phone vibrate. ‘Shit and derision,’ I mumbled. Through half-opened eyes I saw little sister spring out of bed and grab the phone.

'Give it here,' I barked, but it emerged as a croak. I was on a loser.

'Let me read it or I’ll tell Dad you swore and had a wet dream about Charley boy.'

'Girls can’t have wet dreams, you berk.'

'Well you had something. What are wet dreams?'

'Give me my phone and I’ll tell you.' She was already flicking through my mails.

'I’m not falling for that one. I want to know who texts you at five in the morning.' She paused and then giggled. 'There’s a thing. It’s Charley lover-boy and he says, ‘assume S at 9. Leave L 8. be in bushes opposite drive for 7.30, with camera ready. I have to work and will miss the fun, so make some good pics. Love Charley.’'

We had to go through the obligatory