"Thanks, man," I say, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"No worries. Let's hope she likes it."

I picture Leia opening the door in the morning, looking down, reading her name.

"You excited about tomorrow? Big one seven, man."

"I guess. Marc's making chicken like my nan used to do, with the rice and peas and gravy."

"Banging. I'll come straight from work."

He presses a button and an acoustic guitar starts. A deep voice like a lullaby.

"Who's this?" I say, frowning.

"Shut up. What? I can't like a bit of acoustic stuff sometimes? It's good thinking music."

I smile. Even my oldest friend has stuff he doesn't show.

"So what was in it then, the story?" he says.

I lean my head against the cool window.

"Everything."

EXT. NIGHT A thick brown A4 envelope rests against a front door.

No address, just a name in block capitals. LEIA.

I'm lying on my back. There's a light in my eyes. I can see spots. Big saucer-shaped blobs of hot white and there's a voice. A female voice.

Then it's dark. I blink and there's no difference with my eyes open or closed. I can hear water dripping, maybe into a metal sink. The drips almost sound electronic.

Now I'm running. It's afternoon and I'm running home. I look down at my feet and my strides are long. I'm bounding like a gazelle or something and then blood is dripping. Thick drops of it hitting the pavement in front of me. I feel my nose and it's flat. Like it's been pressed into my face.

I'm sitting in a snowy footprint.

I'm outside the head master's office.

I'm kissing Leia in the street. Her hot mouth pressed against mine.

I'm behind bars.

I'm sliding a wad of paper into an envelope.

I'm standing outside our house, with Chewbacca and a zombie, giving the thumbs-up.

I'm hugging Marc. He's hugging me. His arms are strong and I feel safe and then he's squeezing me tighter. And tighter. I try to break free but he just keeps squeezing and I can't breathe. I'm trying to scream but my mouth is full of cotton and he just keeps squeezing.

"Yo!"

His voice comes through my bedroom door.

"Wake up, Lukey! Birthday breakfast!"

I roll over. Check my phone. Nothing. My head hurts. Starved of sleep.

The smell of a fry-up. Notebooks stacked in a pile.

Happy birthday to me.

They're all sitting at the table. Dad in his old place in between Mum and Marc. They start to clap as I walk in.

"Finally!" says Dad.

"Don't you have work?" I say, rubbing my eyes.

"Don't be daft, big man. My boy turns seventeen? I think that's a day-off type situation. Come and sit down."

Mum gets up as I sit and brings a plate from the side full with fry-up.

"Hold on, Ange," says Dad and pulls something out of the chest pocket on his shirt.

"There." It's a candle, sticking straight up out of the sausage on my plate.

"Hold still, Mum," says Marc, leaning in and striking a match.

Mum lays the plate down in front of me as all three of them sing the song.

"Don't forget your wish, love."

I stare at the little flame.

"Isn't he a bit old for that?" says Marc.

Dad points at him like a judge. "You better just shut your mouth, Marc Henry."

And the pair of them smile.

Leia's face.

I close my eyes. The curves of her lips.

Eyes open. Blow.

"Right," says Dad, clapping his hands. "Let's nyam!"

Four terrible jokes. Three cups of tea. Two embarrassing stories. One Darth Vader impression.

A lot of laughing.

I look across at Dad as Marc eats. Dad shrugs and holds up crossed fingers. I do the same. Two boys hoping to win the girl back.

My body feels heavy.

"Here you go, love." Mum hands me a box wrapped in Christmas paper. It's a bit smaller than a shoebox, so it's not trainers.

"It's not trainers," says Marc, and his eyes are dancing.

"Thanks, Mum," I say.

Mum shakes her head. "It's from all of us." The three of them beam smiles.

I put on a posh voice. "Thank you, All of Us."

"Open it, then!" says Dad. So I do.

Stunned.

"The geezer in the shop said it's a good one," Marc says as I pull off the last of the paper. It's a brand new camcorder. My throat itches.

They've got me my own HD camcorder. I look up.

"Is it all right?" says Mum, and she looks genuinely concerned.

"It's amazing," I say. "Thank you."

I watch her hand reach for Dad's and their fingers intertwine, and I have to whistle to stop myself crying.

"Smethwick's Scorsese." Marc eats a sausage with his fingers and the walls feel like they're smiling and I want to press pause on everything to stretch the moment out.

Yo! Happy Birthday man! Coming later with Tom. Z Me and Dad watch Big Trouble in Little China while Mum and Marc go shopping for things for dinner later. Dad does his audio commentary the whole way through.

"You know, Kurt Russell was offered the Superman role before Christopher Reeve and turned it down?"

I pretend he hasn't told me that one, and all the others, a hundred times before and just sit, half watching, half drifting off, my new camcorder in my lap the whole time.

"You can do test shots for your script," Dad says, as the bad guy's face expands like a balloon on the screen. "Let me know if you need a suave father-figure character."

He pulls his James Bond face, but keeps his eyes on the telly. The bad guy explodes.

I stare at my phone. Nothing.

"There's definitely a role for Big Alien Pilot," I say. "You look like you'd be perfect."

Mum and Marc get back in time for lunch and Donna's with them.

Her and Marc make everyone sandwiches and start prepping for dinner.

Dad turns off the TV.

"We should play dominoes!"

"I'm all right, Dad," I say.

"Shut up, killjoy. Ange! Where's the dominoes?"

Mum comes into the living room holding a card. "They're where they always were, Joe, why don't you get up and fetch them? Here, Lukey, this was on the mat."

She hands me a yellow envelope with just my name written on it, no address. My stomach flips as I take it. No address. Does she know where I live? Could she have found out?

It's a postcard showing a still from Reservoir Dogs. Harvey Keitel leaning over Steve Buscemi, both of them pointing their guns at each other. I turn it over.

"Who's it from, love?"

Mum sits down on the sofa.

I stare at the picture and smile. "Just a mate."

By the time Zia and Tommy show up, I've played enough dominoes to last me until I'm as old as you're supposed to be to play them in the first place. Marc and Donna are still in the kitchen. Mum's curled up on the sofa.

"Yo!" says Zia, pointing at the camcorder box. "That's high-end, man."

I look at Mum, smiling like a cat.

Tommy sits down next to her. "You filmed anything yet? Hi, Mrs Henry."

I shake my head.

"Hello, Tom. How's your dad?" Mum says.

"Good, yeah, thanks."

"We got you this." Zia holds out the present. "It's a notebook."

I take it.

"For all them ideas, Lukey." Tommy smiles.

I smile back. "Thanks man."

"We need music!" says Dad and disappears.

Then Donna shouts, "Food's ready!"

It's incredible.

The gravy tastes just like Nan's. Dad found one of his old dancehall CDs upstairs and that's our soundtrack as people catch up in between licking their fingers and asking for more. Tommy keeps looking at Donna, then pretending not to when Marc catches him. Zia can't help staring at Dad, like he always used to, and Dad and Mum keep stealing looks at each other. I just watch it all playing out, present, but conscious of the missing character in the scene, never once letting my phone out of sight.