‘You can’t take Lionel to school.’

‘I can.’ Sam’s bespectacled face creased into defiance. ‘He misses me at home.’

‘But the other kids…’ Molly sighed. She knew only too well the social structure of the school. Hadn’t she been in to see the headmaster only last week?

‘Sam’s being bullied,’ she’d told him, and the man had spread his hands.

‘We do our best,’ he told her. ‘Most kids in Sam’s position would keep their heads down and stay out of trouble. But, even though Sam’s about half the size of most third-graders, he matches it with the best of them. I’m afraid some of the children retaliate rather brutally. But of course you’re right. The kid has pluck and we’ll see what we can do.’

Which wasn’t much, as Molly had thought when Sam had come home with yet another set of bruises. He laid himself open to pain, and if he took his frog to school there were kids there who’d delight in taking his pet from him. Who knew what would happen after that?

‘It’s too late to take him home now,’ Sam told her, his chin jutting forward in the Sam-against-the-world look she knew only too well.

It had been too late, so she’d brought Sam’s frog to work.

Molly’s job was very new. Her cousin had been reluctant to take her on in the first place, she’d had an appointment with Sophia at ten and was in no position to arrive late. So she’d arrived with Lionel’s cardboard box under her arm and this was the result.

‘Sam’ll never forgive me.’ Both girls were scrambling under the desk, oblivious to those above.

‘Excuse me?’ Sophia’s tones from above the desk declared she was clearly not amused. ‘Do I understand you’re looking for a frog?’

‘It’s Sam’s frog.’ Molly’s voice was almost a sob. She pushed her dark curls out of her face and started hauling the filing case from the wall. ‘Help us.’