rachelcoates

It is the last day of the Easter holidays and Lily Green is lying in a big puddle of sunshine under the Chestnut tree on Bottle Bank Lane. Lily is eight years old. She has eyes as green as early acorns and a scattering of nutty freckles, like daisies on a lawn. She stretches out and tickles her cat Compo under his chin, which makes him fall over with happiness and waggle his legs in the air.