Ben knew this was true. He had tried to stay at the hostel today, trying to fake illness, but his teachers were having none of it, and had insisted that no-one was staying at the hostel unless they were so ill they needed to be transferred to the hospital. And so Ben had had to traipse around the Tate gallery, far too tired to appreciate any of the art on offer there, and far too worried about how, and when, he would get his nappies back. If he didn’t have them he knew he couldn’t really risk going to sleep, but staying awake all night had been hard enough the night before, he didn’t think he could possibly manage it for another night. Mike had had to nudge him awake several times on the coach already, and it was only five o’ clock.