"Okay," began Elektra. "Boys, this is your mission, crucial to the future of the Dumping Ground, should you choose to accept it." She paused dramatically. "Two cartons of soya milk, four semi-skimmed, and as much yoghurt as you can carry."

"Right, I think…" paused Jay dramatically, scanning the aisles eagerly. "I think we can manage it."

"Well, frankly, good! You have one aisle to manage – if you muck this up we'll deliberately repel any potential foster parents so you have to live with us forever."

"Nobody wants that."

Elektra raised an eyebrow.

"And what if we see something we want?" checked Bird.

"You can have one thing each, and I mean one. I'll be a couple of aisles away, you can't go wrong. Right, go! Scram! Off you go!" Elektra glided away, leaving the two boys stranded in the midst of an onslaught of dairy.

Whilst quietly chatting, they moved along the shelves, scanning for the food they were supposed to find. Jay wandered aimlessly along entirely the wrong aisle, committing each product name to memory as he traced a line along the shelves with his finger – and that was when it happened.

The boy appeared first. Out of nowhere.

He violently grabbed Jay's enormous Afro, pulled his head down, and shoved him with more might than his size would suggest possible. Jay collapsed to the cold supermarket floor, observed by precisely zero onlookers.

The girl arrived next; the smell followed her.

She snatched the £10 note that Jay was carrying, then she ran, followed by the boy. They managed three metres, before smacking into Bird's open arms. The harsh force sent Bird hurtling backwards, and sent the girl's thick-framed, loose-fitting, transparent-moon glasses sailing through the air. They landed on the vinyl floor, just in time for Elektra to idly crush them.

The two boys cringed and Elektra looked down in confusion; upon seeing the crushed plastic heap, her face crumpled with worry, and she guiltily flustered her way to the girl.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "I really didn't mean to do that, it was an accident."

"How could you do that?" demanded the boy, slightly older than his companion. Elektra instantly picked up the tone of anger in his voice, as well as something indescribable that suggested he was in a hurry.

"I'll pay for a new pair," offered Elektra. "Where are your parents? We can sort something out, I'm sure."

The girl and the boy looked from side to side, searching for a distraction.

"We–" began the girl.

"No, we won't help them!" exclaimed Jay in protest, marching up to the children. He and Bird had witnessed the whole conversation whilst dusting themselves down from the shock attack. "Not when they just stole our money!"

Elektra's eyes widened. "Did you do that?" she interrogated, searching the kids' eyes. Without a word, the girl handed over the £10 note to Jay.

"We're going to have to have a word about this," said Elektra.

"Yeah!" Bird chimed. "Where are your parents?"

"They're… not here," the boy reluctantly admitted.

"Me and my brother… we don't have parents…" added the girl, nervously trailing off at the end.

"So you're related, then!" surmised Jay.

"What about carers? Guardians? Friends?" asked Elektra. "Anyone?" Her reply came in the form of two solemn shaking heads.

"Impossible!" Jay bellowed. "How can you not have anyone?"

"It could be possible," whispered Bird. "They don't seem cared-for – look at their clothes."

"Yeah, and they stink!" chimed Jay. The brother and sister looked up; there was genuine hurt in their eyes. If Jay recognised it, it didn't bother him. "And they were stealing: in all the films, if a child is stealing it's because they're starving to death or something."

"So what do we do?" hissed Elektra. A pause. "Be nice," she resolutely answered herself.

"Excuse me, miss?" the boy asked. "Can we go now?"

"Please?" whimpered his sister.

Elektra turned to face them, surveying the pair for the first time; they were both young-looking – the boy was clearly older, perhaps approaching ten years old, whilst his sister could have been anything from six to eight – and were dressed in curious almost-clothes. The boy was in a ripped brown T-shirt, baggy brown shorts and a sheepskin coat, and his short black greasy hair stuck up at odd angles from his scalp. His sister, by far the smaller of the two, was dressed in a hideous, oversized, floral-pattern smock with a barely-fitting navy body-warmer on top. She had an unkempt raven's-feathers tangle of jet-black hair. Together they embodied the urchin image.

"How about this?" Elektra said. "If you don't want me to report you to the police, then you're gonna do a few things for me. First – you're gonna tell me your names. Then – if it's all right with you, and if you really don't have anyone waiting for you, then we have a little… excursion to go on." She beamed.

Jay and Bird looked at each other in bewilderment. Was she mad?

A minute or two later, the four kids and Elektra found themselves traipsing down the high street. The siblings had introduced themselves as Peppa and George; Elektra was having none of it. She was open to pretty much any idea, but in her experience people called Peppa tended to have white skin, not brown.

She stopped and pushed a door open. She ushered the children in, then stepped past them and up to the counter.

"Good morning!" she fakely beamed to the orange lady behind the counter. She was doing her imitation posh voice, the one she used on the phone to Vodafone trying to tell them that no, somebody must have forgotten to put a decimal point in, there was no way Sasha's bill was that high, oh if only she wasn't so busy helping orphans live fulfilling lives, she might have more time for things like this. "I'd like to book two of the free children's eyes tests, please."

Ah. An optician's. Jay and Bird turned around to see rows and rows of glasses of all shapes and sizes, accompanied by contact lenses swimming in gloopy solution; then they noticed 'Peppa' and 'George', who were gawping as if this were a palace, and the boys couldn't help themselves from smirking.

"Of course, madam," beamed the orange lady, her cheerful tone equally fake but more nasal than Elektra's. "What are your children's names? As they appear in the database, if you don't mind."

Elektra turned to the siblings. "Come on kids, do you want to tell the lady your names?"

She looked at the boy. Gotcha. An NHS database of every child in the United Kingdom and an optician who needed their names: Elektra was going to find out the truth.

The boy pushed forward and uneasily muttered. "Aisha Al Saeed. Rafiq Al Saeed."

A few clicks of a keyboard. A puzzled expression. The results: "I'm so sorry, madam," the bemused shop lady whined. "I can't seem to find any profiles that match your children in the database. This doesn't normally happen – could they be registered under a different name?"

Elektra began to nudge the kids towards the door.

"Er… yes, yes, very probably," she gabbled, the posh mask slipping a little as she left. "They'll be under one of my old surnames, from one of my old husbands. I'm not sure which one to choose from, there've been so many! Ha ha, such fun! I'll be back later, don't you worry! Ta-ta now!"

She ushered Jay, Bird, Aisha and Rafiq along the street. This was very interesting. Somehow, Elektra had managed to pick up the children who didn't exist.

THE DUMPING GROUND: RENAISSANCE
Chapter 4: "The Children Who Didn't Exist"

"How can that happen?" asked Bird in his soft, unintrusive tones. "How can two children just go completely undetected? It doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe there's, like, a top-secret reason for it," offered Jay. "Maybe they've had to keep their identities a secret... because the police are after them!"

"Don't be silly." Bird began to flick through a comic book, keeping one ear out to listen to Jay's ridiculous commentary.

"Okay, well maybe-"

"Nope." Bird didn't want to have to hear this.

"Maybe they were grown in a lab and released into the wild, so that's why they're not in any databases."

"It's unlikely, isn't it?"

"Ooh, ooh! They could be illegal immigrants, so they've not been registered in this country, so it seems like they don't exist – right?"

"Jay, it doesn't matter! It's their business, not yours! Anyway, why not just ask them?"

"Ohhhh yeah," said Jay, like the idea had only just now occurred to him. "I'll do that, then. Thanks, bro!"

Bird rolled his eyes as Jay bounded out of the room.

"How can that happen?" asked Elektra, after she'd summarised the whole situation to Mike in the office at Waterland House. "Not on the databases, no record of their existence, completely unknown. That just doesn't make sense, right?"

"Well, I'll admit, I've not heard anything like it before," conceded Mike, sipping his tea. "But that doesn't mean there isn't a reasonable explanation for all of this."

"Do you know the worst part? They're telling the truth about it all, I just know it," said Elektra, glancing through the windows into the quiet room, a blue-carpeted box room where Aisha and Rafiq sat bolt upright next to each other on the sofas. "I mean, going to the trouble of getting caught, all for the sake of stealing ten pounds – that says a lot, Mike. And they were chomping at the bit to come back with us – to be honest, I think they just wanted to have a roof over their heads."

"Well, you know I'm not best pleased with two surprise guests, Elektra. I sent you out for groceries, not children. But-" he clarified, noticing that Elektra's mouth was wide open and ready to argue. "-I completely understand your rationale. I think you made the right decision."

"What do we do now, then?"

"Well, I'll have to speak to social services, no doubt, and see what they can come up with."

"Isn't that a bit…"

"What?"

"Hasty?"

"How do you mean?" asked Mike, puzzled. "We can't just... take them in! We've got no idea who they even are!"

"Yeah, exactly, Mike! Where's your sense of adventure? We've got to find out who they are – you can't just send them on to somebody else! They're our responsibility. At least make an effort to find out their story before we let social services on them."

"Elektra, you know as well as I do that it's social services' job to find out their story. Don't know if you've noticed, but we've got kids of our own to look after! Ten of the little blighters!"

"Mike. Trust me on this when I say that social services aren't always the most sympathetic."

"Elektra-"

"No! Mike, give me a chance!"

Mike backed off, hesitantly nodded his head. "Okay, see what you can do. But if you've drawn a blank by three, I'm ringing them."

In the living room, most of the kids sat on sofas and cross-legged on the floor. They formed a little council, huddled in a circle. Everybody was looking at Jay and Bird.

"So what are they called?" asked Ryan.

"The girl's called Aisha, her brother's Rafiq," replied Bird.

"Okay, and what are they like?" ventured Charlie.

"What are they like? They're thieves!" exclaimed Jay. "They tried to rob me, they tried to push me over!" ("More than 'tried'", his brother muttered).

The gaggle of children started to whisper to each other excitedly.

"What's this thing about them not existing?" Sasha asked. "Seems a bit strange, if you ask me."

From where they stood, unseen by the other kids, just outside the doorway to the living room, Rafiq squeezed his sister's hand.

The living room was beginning to erupt into a barrage of questions, kids talking over each other, four or five at a time. Questions, questions, questions, on and on and on:

"How did you meet them?" "What did they do to you?" "Who are they?" "What did Elektra say?" "Do they smell?" "Did Elektra really crush someone's glasses?" "How can they not exist?" "Who are they?" "Is it true that they punched Bird?" "Why did you bring them back?" "What are you gonna do with them?" "Who are they?" "Where did they come from?" "Who are they?"

"It's ok," Rafiq whispered to Aisha, just outside the living room. She shook her head and motioned to her ears. Rafiq knew what she meant. "IT'S OK!" he bellowed, thinking he wouldn't be heard above the racket.

It was just a little too loud.

The living room fell silent. "What was that?" asked Jody. All heads swivelled round to the doorway, where Rafiq and Aisha stood, glued to the spot, like a picture in a gallery.

"Whoops," said Sasha awkwardly.

Rafiq grabbed Aisha by the hand, and they ran.

Floss smoothed down her light green dress, did a little twirl in the mirror. She thought she looked a bit too posh, like she was trying a bit too hard. But special days like this only came round once in a blue moon, so why not make the effort? After all, it was her dad's wedding day, and she hadn't seen him properly for months and months.

She stood up on her tiptoes and fished about in the back of her wardrobe, retrieving a little pink velvet box. Carefully, she opened it – inside was a shining silver pendant. She'd never really got the chance to wear it before. Taking it slowly out of its padding, she brought the necklace up to her neck, unhooked the fiddly clasp and tried to tie the two halves back together-

The door banged open! In shock, Floss dropped the necklace and it went flying to the floor. She reached down, angrily shouting "What did you do that for?" As she picked up the necklace, she finally looked up at who had come in: two children she definitely didn't recognise. "Oh… hello."

"He's been working abroad for ages," Floss explained as she checked her hair in the mirror. Aisha and Rafiq sat next to each other on the bed, intently listening. "I only get to see him in real life about once every year. The rest of the time I talk to him on Skype – when he's not too busy, like."

"What's Skype?" asked Aisha inquisitively.

"You don't know what Skype is?" Floss fired back incredulously. "Oh where have you been living? It's great, you get to talk to people even when they're miles and miles away from you. On the computer."

"What's the computer?" asked Aisha. Rafiq shushed her, clasped her hand in his.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," said Floss.

"We're just a bit confused right now. Everyone was asking questions downstairs. My sister didn't like it. She was… scared," Rafiq explained.

"Oh, and I suppose you were fine with it?"

"Yeah," retorted Rafiq. "… no. It was scary."

"I understand," said Floss comfortingly, dabbing something on her face. "It's always scary when you're new. I was only six when I came here – now that was scary."

"I'm seven," said Aisha. Rafiq clenched her hand.

"Ah, cool," Floss smiled. "What about you, Rafiq?"

"I'm ten."

"Nearly as old as me, then. You don't need to worry about everyone asking questions. They're just interested 'cos you're new."

"Who are you all?"

"We're care kids. Our parents aren't around anymore to look after us… so Mike and Carmen and Elektra do it instead."

"Our parents aren't around anymore, either," said Rafiq glumly.

"… Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Floss put the makeup brush down and sat on the bed next to the siblings. "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

"It was just after we came over the sea."

"Mum got sick," said Aisha, her calm demeanour a change to her brother's; Floss noticed a tear running down his cheek, but she didn't say anything. "She said we couldn't get any help even though she was sick. She said we couldn't tell anybody about it."

"Dad made her go to hospital eventually, but they took mum and dad away. So we ran. We stayed quiet. We didn't tell anybody what happened. Just like mum said."

"Are we in trouble?" asked Aisha all of a sudden.

"No, it's ok," said Floss, forcing a smile to break through the sea of sadness that had clouded her mind. "But only if you do something for me."

"What is it?" enquired Rafiq cautiously.

"You've got to tell the adults." The siblings gasped. "I know, I know your mum told you not to, but you've told me and you're not in trouble, right? So please tell the adults. Tell Mike; he's the old one with no hair. They're not bad people, really, and they can help you, make sure you don't get in trouble. Can you do that?"

"Where is he?" roared Floss, fidgeting with a bobble she'd found tied around her wrist. The wedding was due to start in five minutes, and there was absolutely no sign of her dad! He'd been late for things before, even missed them entirely – but surely he couldn't miss this?

"Hey, Floss, it's fine!" Carmen said reassuringly. "No need to worry – it could be traffic, or a wardrobe malfunction, or the car went the wrong way, or anything like that."

"It's the most important day of his whole life, and he's not even here for it!"

"Well… yes, I see where you're coming from. But just have faith – I'm sure it'll be alright. He loves you, and more importantly he loves Mel, and there's no way he'd miss this for the world. I know I wouldn't."

An elegantly-dressed older lady with a sweeping wave of white-flecked hair sashayed up to Floss. "Ah, little Flossie! My my, haven't you grown since I last saw you!"

"Do you know where dad is?" Floss panicked.

"That was what I was going to ask you, actually," said the woman, beginning to feel the contagious effects of Floss's panicked expression.

Floss turned to Carmen. "See? He's going to miss it – I just know he is!"

Carmen thought it might be better not to repeat the same old lines yet again; she just sat in her chair and kept her concerns on the inside.

The clock ticked onto one o'clock, chiming throughout the house.

"You're pushing it, Elektra. Two more hours."

"Mike, I don't even know where they are! How can I find out their story if I can't find them?"

"Maybe it just isn't meant to be. Maybe we've bitten off more than we can chew. Need I remind you again, Elektra, this shouldn't be our job. Which reminds me: speaking of biting off more than we can chew, let's get this lot fed. Mmm-mmm, Special Soup Sunday, my favourite!"

He whirled around to find Aisha and Rafiq standing nervously in the doorway, two tiny figures in ill-fitting mismatched clothes.

"Are you the old one with no hair?" asked Rafiq.

11:59am. She couldn't wait any longer – this was unbearable. Where was he?

Floss got up out of her seat, barged past a protesting Carmen, and ran out of the room. She had to find him. He couldn't be late for something like this. He just couldn't.

As she stood, raging, in the middle of the church's entrance space, the creaking main doors swung open and her flustered-looking father burst into the room, pushing his hair down flat with one hand and adjusting a lapel with the other.

"Floss!" he smiled, forgetting about his lapel and opening his arms wide for a big hug. Instinctively, Floss slotted into his arms and felt his warmth, felt nothing but happy to see him. But then she remembered the circumstances.

"How could you?" she asked incredulously. "The most important day of your whole life, and you're late!"

"No, Floss, it wasn't-it wasn't like that."

"I don't care what it was like! Whatever was holding you up, you should have thought about it before you set off. You should have been ready." Her voice was getting louder and louder, she realised. A few confused heads in the church turned to locate the source of the commotion.

"I know, Floss, I know-"

"Do you know, I don't think you do," she huffed. "You're supposed to love Mel. This is supposed to be the big day where you tell everyone how much you love Mel! And you couldn't even be on time. And what about me?!"

"Flossie, something came up-"

"Eight months, I've been waiting to see you! I thought we could talk for a bit before the wedding, but ohhh nooo, as usual, 'something came up'. It's like I don't even exist!"

She stormed off and out of the church. She knew she was going to have no part in this stupid wedding.

They'd told them everything, every single detail about their lives leading up to their current predicament. Mike had been choking back tears, whilst Elektra sat in solemn silence, her brain whirring at four thousand miles an hour to try to comprehend what she was hearing. After that, Elektra had taken Aisha and Rafiq into the kitchen, so that everybody could have lunch together – the other Young People had been very explicitly warned to clean up their act and not crowd Aisha and Rafiq like before.

That left Mike alone in the office, stuck with the painful dilemma dominating his thoughts. Their history was undoubtedly horrific, something no child should have to go through – surely they deserved nothing less than to be cared for at Waterland? It would mean a heck of a lot of paperwork, and he hadn't a clue where to start with form-filling two children into existence, but Mike knew that Waterland House had a duty to care for these neglected siblings, to nourish and nurture them to the best of its ability. But then, on the other hand – it was social services' job to do this, not his, and in all likelihood social services would be much more in the know about how to handle the situation; they'd probably get the paperwork done and dusted in a week, and then Aisha and Rafiq might still be able to live at the Dumping Ground. However – there was risk involved in that option. That tiny, niggling possibility of deportation. Not being 100% on the facts of the case, Mike had no idea whether deportation could be on the cards, but he couldn't risk it, could he?

As he mulled the options over, the door slammed open and a haggard-looking Fiona burst into the Dumping Ground. Aside from being Mike's partner, she also happened to be the regional manager for all the area's care homes. And she definitely couldn't know about Aisha and Rafiq, not whilst Mike was still thinking things through.

Oh, shoot.

Luckily, Elektra heard the door being flung open, and her instincts kicked in.

"Get under the table!" she hissed to Aisha and Rafiq, pulling up the tablecloth to let them under. The siblings scurried underneath just in time.

"I could really, really do with a bowl of Special Soup right now, Mike," announced Fiona, taking off her coat. "Oh, I see you've got a couple of chairs free. Always waiting in case I turn up for lunch?" She plonked herself down in a chair that, just moments before, Aisha had been sat on. Under the table, Rafiq put a finger on his lips to tell his sister not to make a sound.

Mike sat on Rafiq's chair and ladled some soup into a bowl. "Long morning?" he said as he passed the bowl to Fiona.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," replied Fiona. "You all all right, kids?" Some of the kids made a half-effort to nod. By now, they were used to Mike and Fiona ruining mealtimes by being all lovey-dovey.

"Well, get some Special Soup down you and forget all your troubles at Mike's Kitchen."

"Mmm, that's delicious," purred Fiona, sipping hot soup. Sat under the table, Aisha's eyes widened as she saw Mike's foot swing at Rafiq's head. She pushed her brother out of the way just in time, and shuffled over a little. In horror, the siblings watched as Mike's foot tentatively caressed Fiona's; their disgust intensified when they saw Fiona do the same thing. This was going to be a difficult lunchtime, and no mistake.

"Floss!" called Carmen into the pouring rain, standing on the doorstep of the church. "Floss!"

Sheepishly, a wet and bedraggled Floss came round the corner. "I'm only coming in because I'm getting rained on, I hope you understand that."

"Floss, please think about what you're doing," advised Carmen, proffering a hand. "You were right: your dad would be a fool to miss this wedding. But so would you!"

"He was late!"

"But he's here now! That's what matters. It's about making memories, Floss, especially when you spend so little time with your dad. Are you gonna remember today as the day you were soaking in the car park, or the day you saw your dad the happiest he's ever been? It's your choice, but I know what I'd do."

Floss considered for a few moments, then took Carmen's hand. Maybe she had a point.

In the shadowy attic, the council of kids was in session again. Perched on crates and beanbags in a clearing surrounded by cardboard boxes as far as the eye could see – which wasn't far, in the oppressive near-total darkness – they held torches so they could see each other, and were engrossed in their conversation.

"And did you see the amount of mud they left in the shower?" Jody moaned.

"The girl sat on the TV remote," complained Jay.

"Oh god, I've had a thought. Bagsy not giving up my room for them," said Charlie. A chorus of similar 'bagsy's filled the room.

"I think I got cramp in my leg from them hiding under the table at lunch," added Jody. "Why should we have to suffer for them? We don't even know who they are!"

"I don't want them here," confessed Tyler. "I know we have to give everyone a chance, or whatever – but there's limits to what I can cope with, you know?"

"It's like they don't know how to live with other people," evaluated Sasha.

"Yeah, completely," Charlie said.

"Well, if we're all agreed, then why not do something about it?" said Sasha mischievously, as she reached for her phone and dialled a number.

"What are you doing?" asked Jay, but Sasha merely shushed him and moved the phone to her ear.

"Hello, I hope you can listen to this message first thing in the morning and sort something out. We'd just like to let you know that our care home, Waterland House, is currently overrun by two children who don't even exist. Like, we found them, took them off the streets – they were like, feral, or something – and now we're stuck with them, because our careworkers are such big softies. So please, please pretty please, can you sort it out, because they are getting on my nerves, and they shouldn't even be here. Thanks very much."

Sasha pressed the button to end the voicemail, and smiled triumphantly at the others.

Monday morning dawned, and some of the Young People fought to contain their secret smiles – they knew what was going to happen. True, they'd managed to stay in their rooms for the night, since Aisha and Rafiq slept on mattresses in the quiet room, but Sasha certainly was going to be glad to see the back of them. I mean, what right did they have to come in and mess everything up at the Dumping Ground, when they didn't even exist, by all accounts? As she and the others shuffled down the stairs that morning, they all had a little extra spring in their step.

And when they came into the kitchen, the most beautiful breakfast ever awaited them. Laid out on the table was every variety of breakfast food imaginable – plates of crumpets and pancakes; boxes of cereals arranged in regimented rows; eggs done scrambled, fried and boiled; a bowl of fruit salad swimming in fragrant strawberry yoghurt; jam and peanut butter and chocolate spread all fighting for space next to a plate piled high with freshly-baked croissants. The Young People were amazed by the beauty in front of them. They were about to race to get a seat at the table, but Mike stopped them.

"Ah, ah, ah," he warned. "There's one last thing to take care of, isn't there, you two?"

Aisha and Rafiq came round the corner and each put on the table a toast rack, full to the brim with every colour of toast, from bleached to blackened and back again.

"Before you get to try this lovely-looking meal, Aisha and Rafiq have got something to say to you all," beamed Mike, bundling the siblings forward to face the others.

"We just wanted to say how sorry we are for yesterday," explained Rafiq. "Everything was unfamiliar, and everyone was asking questions, and it was like everything we were doing was wrong, but we didn't mean to hurt anybody's feelings."

"I'm very sorry," said Aisha.

"So we made breakfast to cheer you all up."

The Young People burst into chimes of "thank you"s and "I forgive you"s, and eagerly sat down and began to greedily pile food onto their plates. It was going to be, without a doubt, the best breakfast ever.

Carmen strolled into the kitchen. "Morning, everyone!" she trilled, but everyone was too engrossed in their breakfast to reply. "Lovely to see you, too," she said to nobody in particular. "Post for Floss!"

"Ooh, what is it? Give it here!" said Floss, snatching a red envelope out of Carmen's hand. She noticed a first-class stamp affixed to the top corner of the envelope, as well as some cramped, thick, familiar handwriting. She quickly opened it and scanned the contents.

"What have you got there, Floss?" asked Mike from the other end of the table, where he was spooning out baked beans onto the army of plates that were crowding him.

"It's from my dad," said Floss apprehensively. "He says he's sorry about being late yesterday… but he's got a surprise for me… and he wants to meet up while he's still in town… Milkshake and a muffin, like we used to do. Carmen, can you come with me?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," replied Carmen. "We'll go this afternoon, if you want."

Floss merrily turned back to her food and started cutting off a bite-sized piece of fried egg. As she raised the fork to her lips, she had a horrible thought. "Oh no!" she cried. "If I'm having a muffin later, how am I going to be able to eat all this breakfast now?"

The door slammed open, and the Young People heard footsteps in the hall, approaching the kitchen. As they neared, Mike called "Morning, Elek-"

Fiona marched into the kitchen, flanked by two men in crisp charcoal pinstripe suits who both clutched briefcases; neither looked like they'd got out of the right side of the bed.

"Michael Milligan?" one of the men asked.

"Uh, yes, that's me," replied Mike. "Is everything alright? What's going on here?"

"Mike, these are my colleagues from social services," Fiona explained. One of the men haphazardly flashed a glinting ID badge to prove her point.

"We understand," he explained, "from a call we received late last night, that there might be some completely unregistered Young People currently in residence here. Could we speak to you, Mr Miligan?" He did not look impressed with the situation.

"You're not taking Aisha and Rafiq!" Jody burst out.

"Yeah, you can't!" cried Sasha, eliciting a look of amazement from the others, who'd seen her ringing social services less than twelve hours before. "We made a mistake, we shouldn't have rung you."

"So they aren't unregistered?" enquired Fiona.

"Well, uh, depends on your definition of unregistered," decided Bird.

"Technically, yeah, they don't exist. But you can't take them away!" cried Jody.

"We thought they were horrible, but they're not, they're lovely people!" added Sasha. "They made some mistakes, and we got angry with them, but we shouldn't have. They're as much Dumping Ground kids as the rest of us."

"And they're the best breakfast chefs ever!" cooed Joseph.

Aisha and Rafiq turned to each other and smiled. Fiona looked puzzled. "Well…" she began, clearly finding it difficult to formulate the right response. "We can't ignore the fact that by hiding the fact these children were in your care, you're technically flaunting quite a few rules. There's a reason these rules are in place, as you well know, Mike." Mike looked around with a 'what, me?' expression on his face. "But I can see the bond you've clearly made. As with all extreme cases like this, we were hoping that they could stay here anyway, provided the paperwork can be sorted out, but after this, I promise you that we'll fight these kids' corner. Don't you worry."

The children laughed and cheered, bringing a smile to Fiona's face. Tyler went over to Aisha and Rafiq and scooped them up in a big bear hug.

"Mike, let's make a start on this paperwork – come on!" urged Fiona.

Mike looked pleadingly at her. "But my breakfast…"

"Don't push your luck."

"Ha ha, bad luck Mike!" jeered Ryan, sitting in Mike's chair as soon as Mike had stood up, and helping him to Mike's only-just-buttered slice of toast.

They'd done it! The Young People of the Dumping Ground had saved their new friends, and they couldn't be happier about it.

"Thanks for coming to see me at such short notice, Flossie," smiled her dad, passing the strawberry milkshake over and chuckling as she noisily slurped it down. At the next table, Carmen sat watching – she'd always been intrigued by what went on during these parent-child meetings. Now she could find out – the perks of being a careworker, she supposed.

"It's ok. It's like Carmen said – you've got to choose what memories you make. And if you're only going to be here for a few weeks then I want to make all the happy memories I can."

"That's my girl," he laughed. Then he paused for a few seconds before venturing his next topic. "Floss, you understand why I was late, don't you? It was just the traffic, nothing more. It was atrocious, like I'd never seen before. Completely out of my control. And do you know how bad it was?"

"No," she shook her head.

"So bad that I got out, begged for a bike off the roof rack of the car behind me in the traffic jam, and then I pedalled as fast as I could, in the rain, all the way to the church!"

"Really?!" laughed Floss, tickled by the funny image of her serious businessman dad cycling like a lunatic to get there on time.

"Really," he smiled. "Am I forgiven, then?"

Floss put her finger to her lips and arched her head in thought. "Hmm… not just yet." Her dad's face fell. She continued, "one more milkshake, however… then I might be in a bit more of a… forgiving mood."

She smiled innocently. Her dad laughed back, and Floss found herself laughing too.

"Well done, guys. Cheers!" said Mike, clinking glasses of fizzy orange with Carmen, Elektra and Fiona in the office.

"Well, it was by no means easy, but we got there in the end," reported Fiona, gesturing to a brand-new set of files on Mike's desk. "They're all yours now. Do you know, it was the kids that really swung it for me. Soon as I saw how desperate they were not to lose those kids, I knew I had to fight for them."

"You did a great job. Thank you so much, Fiona," Mike smiled, leaning over to kiss Fiona on the cheek. Carmen and Elektra pretended to vomit. "Ah, stop it, you two. Don't think the sentimentality stops with Fiona. Elektra, without your quick thinking, we'd never have gotten into this crazy situation, but I think that's a good thing. And Carmen, congratulations on how you dealt with Floss – it's really made a big positive impact. I'm so proud of you both."

Carmen and Elektra smiled. They could hear the Young People enthusiastically playing games in the living room; they were introducing Aisha and Rafiq to the art of snooker. On nights like this, where the whole house just seemed to get along, where everybody had nothing but kind words to say to each other, this truly was the best job in the world.

Welcome to the Dumping Ground, Aisha and Rafiq! This chapter is an odd little hybrid - I had the idea for it, and wrote the cold open, back in March 2016, but storylined and wrote the rest in November 2018 (10 March 2016-20 November 2018). To be honest, I'm really quite proud of how it's turned out, so I hope you enjoyed it - if you did, feel free to leave a review! I'd really appreciate your thoughts.

Most chapters of this story involved some form of research before I started writing, so I thought I'd keep you up to date on that - so, for this episode, I researched whether government databases like the one in the optician's actually exist. The answer is... not anymore. There was one called Centrepoint around 2010, but it's no longer around - again, I'm using a little bit of my creative licence on this one. Hope you don't mind!

Next week, you'll get to know a bit more about the new arrivals - here's a sneak preview:
Ryan is the ecstatic recipient of a brand-new motorbike for his 17th birthday. He can't wait to take it out on the road (with Elektra's help, of course) - there's just one problem: why do parts keep going missing? As he tries to expose the culprit, Ryan is faced with some harsh home truths. Meanwhile, Sasha sees Mike's plans to get a new office chair as licence to wreak mischief on the house, and Rafiq's concern that his sister has no interests leads to him and Carmen teaming up to find Aisha's hobby.
Episode 5, "Out with the Old", is coming next Friday (15 February).