“Your head’s full of rocks,” Davy’s mother shouted after him as he hurtled down the track on his bicycle, dust clouding up behind him. She shook her head.

Round the corner, Davy stopped and got off his bike. He walked down the path towards the river, the velvet bag in his hand. When Grandad had given him the bag, Davy had found Grandad’s football and soldier medals inside. But now the medals were safe in Davy’s desk drawer and the river pebbles were in the bag.

“They might be rubbish to her but to me they’re treasure,” he said to himself. He sat on the stony beach and, one by one, took the pebbles out of the bag. He held them in his hand and looked at them one last time. Then, wiping tears from his face with river water, he walked back towards his bicycle, towards home.

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