A GOOD DEED GONE WRONG I tiptoe out of the house when the crickets are still chirping and the air smells like night. I left mum and dad’s bedroom door ajar and walked downstairs bare-footed on the soft carpet. Dad was snoring and mum slept with her mouth open. They looked exhausted like they do on a day after there’s been some shouting. I didn’t think that the washing machine door would be so stiff. I was scared that if I pulled at it too hard it might clang open waking everybody up in a bad mood. So I used a tea towel to muffle the sound as I pulled, I’m not sure if it made any difference, but nobody woke up. I filled the laundry basket with all our clothes from the party and took it outside with me. I put the basket on the garden table and move one of the less rusty chairs under the washing line so I can reach up high enough. I’ve got ten pegs in my pyjama trouser pockets, nine now that I’ve dropped one, let’s hope that’s enough. Dad’s blue shirt is heavy with water, bu