Hayden stood close beside Sammy and watched the fireworks explode against the navy sky.

His neck ached and he could no longer feel his feet in the cold, damp grass, but he was happy. He was happy here with Sammy and her parents. It was just gone 9pm and he knew what would be happening at home: his mother would be asleep in front of the television and his father would be cradling a glass of wine at the kitchen table, staring at his reflection in the window as if watching fish in a tank.

Hayden pushed the thought to the back of his mind and took another bite of his toffee apple. The toffee shattered against his teeth and the apple burst in his mouth. The sensation was pure comfort.

As bright colours flashed and faded in the sky, the large crowd oohed and aahed around him and, in the pauses between displays, the local radio station piped music through two large speakers at the front of the cricket field.

Whigfield’s current number one, Saturday Night, was met with a loud cheer and a couple in front of Hayden began to dance, moving with the staggered steps that he saw in his parents all too often.

Sammy’s mother, Alyson, knelt beside him.

‘Would you like something else to eat?’ she asked.

Some hundred metres away was the hotdog van and the smell was delicious.

Hayden shrugged. Yes, he wanted a hotdog, but he didn't want to appear greedy.

‘Sammy’s having one,’ Alyson added, as if sensing his apprehension.

He looked at Sammy. She was his best friend and yet he found himself envying her; envying her for being here with her parents and not knowing how lucky she was.

‘Yes, please,’ Hayden said. ‘Thank you.’

Alyson smiled, then kissed her husband, Alan, on the lips. The action seemed so intimate that Hayden looked away, embarrassed. He noticed that Sammy didn't flinch.
As he watched Alyson join the queue at the hotdog van, Hayden realised he’d seen his parents show affection to one another only twice in his nine years.

There was the time when they were on holiday two summers ago and his father had tried to kiss his mother. Hayden, thinking it was funny how much his mother was resisting, had taken a picture with his Boots camera. A picture that, now, he couldn’t bring himself to look at.

Then there was the time last Christmas when he’d come downstairs in the night to see his father lying on the sofa with his mother curled up beside him.

During the arguments that followed, Hayden recalled that memory and told himself that they loved each other really; that there was something he was too young to understand beneath the screaming, shouting and swearing. Something grown-up and adult. Something alien.

Alyson was returning with hotdogs when the message came over the tannoy.

‘Hayden Tyler, please go home immediately. Repeat, Hayden Tyler, please go home immediately.’

He felt the colour drain from his face as he looked to Alyson. She wasn’t smiling now, but instead saying something to Alan and gesturing to Sammy.

The hot dogs she held suddenly seemed so unappealing.

The next thing he knew, Hayden was being led away from the firework crowd.

He wanted to ask Alyson what was happening, but he was old enough to know that he didn't really want an answer.

His mother opened the door and he knew in an instant that something was wrong. Her face was the colour of milk and her eyes were bloodshot.

As Hayden stepped into the house, he felt his heartbeat race.

‘Where’s Dad?’ he said, somehow sensing his father’s absence.

His mother held her hands to her face, drew in a breath and exhaled.

‘Something’s happened, Hay,’ she said. ‘Something’s happened to your father.’

He knew before she told him what that something would be.