‘You’re weird,’ said Sasha. ‘But yeah. I like it. We can do that, hey, beanie?’ She rubbed her stomach. ‘Can you make this at least twice a week, do you think? It feels so good for me.’

‘Can it be consecutive days so I just make it once, but massive?’

‘Sure.’

‘Done.’

Izzy came over after dinner. We left Sasha doing some forensic-science reading and went to my room. It was a small bedroom, always quite messy, but I was pleased all over again, every time I walked in there, that they hadn’t made me move somewhere else when Dad left, and that he hadn’t forced me to go to Inverness.

I sometimes wondered what my life would be like if he had. He could have done it easily. He was a doctor: he could have drugged me and put me in the car while I was asleep, and by the time I came round I would have been halfway to Scotland. The fact that he’d woken me up and asked me to go had to mean that he didn’t really care whether I said yes or no. If he’d really wanted me with him I knew I’d be there.

I tried to imagine myself in Scotland, starting all over again with only Dad as my family. I pictured Sasha alone in this big house eating Pot Noodles. It made me shudder.

I wondered whether we’d ever see him again. Although I would have given absolutely anything to have had Mum back, I didn’t want to see Dad at all, though a stupid part of me still half hoped to see his name when I looked at my emails. It would be nice if he cared about us a tiny bit.

‘What’s in your parents’ room?’ Izzy said, looking at the closed door across the landing.

‘Their furniture,’ I said. ‘But we’re going to make it into a nursery. I think Sasha’s getting a charity to pick up the bed and stuff at some point, and then we’ll paint the walls, like, bright green or something for the baby, and we’ll make it into the best kid’s room ever.’

‘Yay,’ said Izzy. ‘I’ll help.’

‘Thanks.’

I offered her a Penguin biscuit and opened one myself.

‘So, what’s going on with you?’ she said. ‘Something’s happening, right?’

I finished my mouthful and grinned.

‘Something is happening,’ I said. ‘Yes. I met a boy. I mean, I hardly know him. I’ve met him twice. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time. I keep thinking about him, though. I really like him. I think … I think I like a boy, Izzy! It’s been ages. I haven’t fancied anyone since Jack Lockett. And definitely not since Mum. You know.’