Trying to make a tent homely is not really possible. Whatever you try to add, it will always look like the inside of a cave, and will always feel too small even if, like us, you have one of the biggest tents in the group.

Blankets are strewn everywhere; I thought it would make the place seem more comfortable, but it's only made it look like more of a dump.

There's a zipping sound and the tent flap behind me opens. Mum's head pokes through. Her eyes survey the scene in front of us.

"We don't need blankets," she comments. "It's too hot."

I realise, with a sigh, that she has a point. I crawl forward to gather them all up again, but a hand on my arm stops me.

"Don't do that now. We're having dinner first."

Outside, someone is burning charcoal. As the smoke rises into the night like ghosts, and the tangy scent of lemon-drizzled meat fills my nose, my mouth begins to water.

All of the team are seated around the barbecue on logs. Mum and I sit beside Guy, one on each side of him. For a second I wonder if our life here will revolve around him.

The logs are covered in soot but we sit down anyway. Across from me, I can see the black tendrils of the girl's hair, but the smoke between us prevents me from seeing anything else.

Different cuts of meat roast on the rack in front of us, fat dripping into the fire with a hiss. The flames flicker in everyone's faces; smoke fills the air; warm, delicious meat fills our stomachs; I'm left wondering if this is real.

Soon my eyes begin to droop, and a bottle of something hot and spicy is passed around. I take a sip when Mum's face is turned away, to the amusement of the diggers close to me, including Guy. If she saw, she would probably throw me into the fire in her anger. You're fourteen, she'd say. Get a grip. Even without it happening, I can imagine it.

So, when the drink is passed around a second time, I refuse it and hand it over without any hesitation. The thought of the slick alcohol burning my throat again makes me want to cough up my chicken.

Soon afterwards, the world is completely black, and the fire is the only source of light. Some of the diggers lean into each other, smiling and giggling idiotically. One man begins to a sing a crude song at the top of his voice. That's when Mum appears at my side, and she tugs me up from the log, towards the tent.

I bundle all of the blankets together on one side of the tent. Mum and I take it in turns to brush our teeth. Whilst she gargles with mouthwash outside, I snuggle down into the sleeping bag, only to be interrupted by the sound of rustling. One peek under my covers shows the culprit.

A folded piece of paper. Curious, I unfold it and flatten it out on my knee.

River tomorrow @ eight. I'll be waiting.

B

I rack my brain for ideas about whom the letter might be from. And finally when the person pops up in my head, I'm left with a smile and a pleasant feeling.

To make sure I'm absolutely certain, I check the paper again, scanning over the irregular ridges on the edges.

It's almost as though it's been ripped from a notepad.