I arrived home from college to find a familiar looking land rover parked at my gate. Dad's springer spaniel Jasper sat on the back seat, wagging his tail at me. The rest of the land rover was full of baggage and possessions. I didn't feel especially good about the situation but gave Jasper a quick wave and went into the house.

It could have been mistaken for a war zone by the things being shouted across in the kitchen. I could hear mum's voice raised and dad's familiar boom. I stood at the door, ear pressed to the wood, listening. Greg cut across the argument as I started to pick up on words.

"Look," he said, "You can't just come waltzing in here after all the time you've been away."

"And who do you think you are?" Dad said. "You're not her father."

"Are you?" Greg said. "You've hardly seen her in ten years. You don't support her. You rarely even call."

"She's my daughter," Dad said. "And she deserves to be given a new chance away from all this?"

"For Christ's sake Paul," Mum told him. "Do you really think it's any different in New Zealand? Even if you get into the country, it's just going to be the same problems. Nowhere is getting through this. The world's changed, Paul."

"You and your defeatist bullshit," Dad said. And as Greg protested, he cut across. "This is all the fault of our government. It's not as if oil prices went up that much. They're just using the opportunity to raise taxes and limit our freedoms, as usual.Me and Emma have had enough. Mia's coming with us."

I listened with horror at the door. They wanted me to go to New Zealand? I mean, no offense to those down under but I rather like it here! I started to open the door, ready to storm in and join the argument.

"I wouldn't love." I turned to see Uncle Andy standing at the foot of the stairs, looking down at me.

"but they want to send me away!"

"I don't think your dad's going to win this one, love. Come on." He walked past me and into the kitchen. I followed him in. My dad and his new wife Emma stood at one side of the table. Mum was sitting down, cradling a cup of tea. Greg stood near the stove, a glowering look of anger on his face. It was the most expressive I'd ever seen him.

"Mia!" Dad came over to me, arms wide, an unnaturally large grin on his face. His hair was cropped short and it made him look very different, much older and more careworn than his old shoulder length hair. His clothes were less hippyish too.

"Hello dad," I said, giving him a reluctant hug. He stood up and smiled.

"we've got some exciting news," he said.

"No," mum cut across, glaring at him, "we don't."

"Come now," dad said, "don't be like that."

"Paul!" Uncle Andy, who'd been pretty much ignored since he entered, thrust himself across the room, shaking dad's bewildered hand. "How are you doing? So did you sell the house and the farm then?"

Dad looked uncomfortable, and squirmed. Emma, a younger wife with one of those faces that looks like it's smelled something bad, looked even more affronted.

"No," Dad admitted. "Not yet."

"Couldn't find a buyer, huh?" Andy said, still shaking Dad's hand. "I suppose you're planning to sell it whilst you're out in New Zealand?"

"Of course," Emma said. Even her voice was haughty. "We know some very reputable Estate Agents that assure us house prices will have stablised in a few months."

Greg all but snorted into his drink. Andy's smile grew wider, in direct response to my dad's face growing ever more nervous.

"And New Zealand's just going to let you in?" Mum said.

"We have a lot of friends out there," Emma replied, making it very clear that we were not considered friends in quite the same way. "My father has already moved out there and he's making arrangements."

Arrangements sounded like it involved a lot of money. When Emma was involved it usually did. Mum always said Dad ran off with her because he loved the idea of a young fling that paid for him to go on holiday with her.

"So the phonelines are working out there," Andy said, "What with the crisis and all? I mean, you do have a plan for keeping track of the seller?"

"We've got a plan," Dad said, but he didn't look sure. "We've got a place to rent in New Zealand, for me and Emma and Mia."

"But I don't want to go!" I said, feeling like the luggage in the middle of some vast tug of war game. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"I'm your father," dad said. "Your mother hasn't exactly been taking good care of you, has she? She's had to start sleeping with the guy next door just to find somewhere for you all to live."

"Paul!" My mum said. Greg put down his mug and drew himself up to his full height, looking ready to punch dad right that minute.

"So you're saying," Andy said, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension in the room, "That you're going to take Mia because you don't think we can look after her properly, that we don't have the money?"

"Exactly," dad said. "I mean look at you - you get laid off and come running back here to sleep on her boyfriend's floor? She deserves better."

"I agree," Andy said. Dad looked oddly at him, starting to notice that the biting sarcasm wasn't getting through.

"So," Andy continued, reaching into his pocket, "What if I buy your farm off you?"

The room's atmosphere changed from tension to surprise. Everyone's eyes focused on Andy's hand as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. It was much thicker than it should be. Thicker because it had a large roll of 50 pound notes in it.

"Uncle Andy..." I stared at the money. It was more than I'd ever seen in one place. "Where did you get that money?"

"That's what I'd like to know," mum said, exchanging a glance with Greg.

"The Oil company paid us off," Andy said, unrolling the bills. "Insurance. You get a lot if you're injured in a terrorist attack. More if you tell them you know about how lax their security was and that the papers would be fascinated."

We stared as he placed the roll of money into Dad's hands.

"£3,000." he said.

"I'm not selling you the farm for £3,000!" Dad and Emma shouted near simultaneously.

"That's to start." Andy said. "I'll pay you 30,000 more than the asking price. Cash. But you have to leave Mia here with us. That's the deal."

The look between Dad and Emma told the whole story. Andy reached over and squeezed my shoulder. He winked.

"It's all going to be alright love." He whispered.

I have no idea if that's true. But it certainly feels a lot more alright than it could have been.

[Author's note: week 27

This is an event I've been planning for a while, to begin wrapping up the story arc. It's a few days later than planned due to revision but here it is.]