I follow the familiar path up to Mum’s ward. Everything around me smells like lemon, so strong it’s almost sickly. When I get to Mum’s room I take my usual seat by her bed. I lay my head next to her arm, just as I have done before. I shut my eyes and wait for sleep to take me.

I wait.

And wait.

After several minutes I sit up again. What’s wrong?

Everything is the same as it has been. So, why am I not falling asleep?

That’s when I panic.

I stand up and pace around, not sure what to do with myself. I leave the room and walk back in to start the ritual again, but nothing works.

‘Safiya!’ Amanda calls as she walks in.

Please go away, I think, so I can see my mum.

‘Hello,’ I say instead, not doing a very good job of sounding enthusiastic.

Elle’s always really good at this sort of thing, but not me. Thinking of Elle makes me feel like bitter medicine is seeping down my throat. All she talked about at school the day after we went to the bike shed was kissing Matty. But she never explained why she didn’t tell me, her best friend, about it first.

We’ve been plodding along this week like normal, but something feels a little . . . off. We don’t send each other as many messages as we used to; Elle just chats to the whole group instead, like I’m not enough any more.

‘How are you holding up?’ Amanda asks me, glancing at Mum briefly with a frown on her face.

Usually Amanda’s really cheerful, so this sudden change worries me.

Is it to do with what the doctors were saying? It can’t be all that bad, can it? Mum’s only been in hospital a couple of weeks. I once had the flu for that long, and had to stay off school for ages.

But then Amanda turns back to me, all smiles again. ‘You know, we’ve had loads of people visit your mum.’ She leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. ‘She’s our most popular patient on the ward!’

That’s when I notice them. All the cards lined up on the window next to Mum’s bed, from people’s she’s helped, friends from work and the pottery class she sometimes goes to. Amanda squeezes in next to me to show me them, like it’ll make me feel better. Like it doesn’t remind me that Mum seemed to be able to get along with everyone but me.

I get a whiff of hospital-standard lemon-scented soap as Amanda leans over me to show me each card. It’s so strong that it makes me feel ill, but everyone here smells of it.

‘Great,’ I say flatly. Say something else, Saff.