Still, I casually presented my cheek to him.

– Hi Dad.

My dad gave me a kiss and, according to an ancient ritual, firmly gave me a great affectionate slap on the back.

– Hi son! Finally awake?

The back of my shoulder, like every time he did this, started to sting, and my awesome t-shirt was probably covered with grease, but I felt better.

I wandered around his workshop for a bit, pretending to be interested in what he was doing in order to see if the memories of the incredible events of the night before were going to come back to him, but they didn’t.

He looked at me strangely (I normally care about mechanical things just as much as I care about my mum’s classical music) and gently took the screwdriver I had been playing with for no reason.

– You want to tell me something, Son?

I hesitated.

– No Dad.

He plunged his gentle colossus’ look into mine, trying to guess my thoughts.

– You’re quite sure?

– Yes Dad.

I stayed standing in front of him for a few moments, then made up my mind to turn on my heels. My dad stopped me in my tracks.

– Take that with you, Son.

He held out a book soaked by rain: The War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells. It was the book that, in my shock and panic, I had dropped the night before.

– Your mother is going to be furious if she finds out. I found it this morning in front of the gate. What happened to this book?

I lowered my eyes and chose not to answer.

My dad sighed.

– Ok, it doesn’t matter. But be careful next time, hmm?

And as I was about to leave, he stopped me again.

– By the way, you haven’t seen my spanner anywhere, have you? The big one, that I usually keep in my bike bag. I’ve been looking for it since this morning. It’s really weird…

(Go to PART 16)