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Dylan sat hunched over his cereal bowl while Kelly played with her toast. Lucy was standing at the counter cutting fruit into a bowl and Billy was making coffee. The kitchen door opened and Jenny came in. ‘Hey, I’m out of coffee and food, so I thought I’d call over. One of the many good things about living so close by is I can feed myself here.’ Jenny plonked herself down between Dylan andKelly.

‘I told you to take some bread and coffee home with you yesterday when you called into the shop,’ Billy grumbled.

‘Yes, but I’d much rather call in and have it served to me.’ Jenny winked at him. ‘If you had a coffee machine you could sell really amazing coffee and make a huge profit.’

‘Not this again.’ Billy sighed. ‘She’s been tormenting me all week about it,’ he said, pointing atLucy.

Jenny pretended to be surprised. ‘Really?’

‘It’s been non-stop about the bloody coffee machine.’

‘Well, she’s right. Think of the profit you could make. Everyone wants good take-out coffee now,’ Jenny said.

Lucy could have kissed her sister.

‘She has a point, Granddad. Even kids my age would buy cappuccinos and lattes,’ Kelly said.

Lucy wanted to kiss Kelly too.

‘Cappuccinos at yourage? It’s ridiculous.’

‘Maybe, but it’s how things are today,’ Lucy said. ‘I guarantee you’ll be jumping for joy after a month when you see the profits, Dad.’

Billy turned to Dylan. ‘What do you think?’

Dylan shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

Lucy looked at him. ‘Whatever? Is that all you have to contribute?’

Dylan went back to his cereal.

‘Someone’s got out of the wrong side of bed today,’ Jenny said.‘What’s up with you?’

‘Nothing,’ Dylan muttered.

‘Are you all right, pet? You look exhausted.’ Lucy was worried about him. He’d been in rotten form since the match last week. She knew he hated playing badly, but this was much worse than normal: he’d barely spoken in the last few days.

‘Do you feel ill?’ She put her hand to his forehead.

He pulled away. ‘I’m fine, leave it.’

‘It’s probablya girl,’ Billy said, pouring himself a coffee. ‘Girls are usually the root of teenage-boy problems.’

‘And boys are the root of all teenage-girl problems.’ Jenny smirked at her father.

‘Is that it, Dylan?’ Lucy asked. ‘Is it girl trouble?’

‘Jesus, Mum, I said I’m fine.’ Dylan stood up and stormed out of the room.

In shock, Lucy watched him go. He’d never snapped at her like that. Dylan wasthe easy-going child, the one who never answered back.

‘Jeez, whatever it is, he’s taken it badly,’ Jenny said.

‘I’m worried about him. He’s in terrible form.’

Billy patted Lucy’s shoulder. ‘Relax, sure it’s only hormones. Some silly girlfriend problem, I reckon.’