“Please don’t make this harder, love. Please don’t make me go and get the photos.”

I tried not to let her see my tears when the blade touched my scalp. I know it’s for the best. I don’t like to look in mirrors but Mum took photos of me once when my hair was falling out so I could see how bad it had got and I understood then why she needs to shave my head. What little hair I had left hung scraggy and limp against my flaky scalp. I didn’t look like a girl—I didn’t even look human. I looked like something that had been buried and dug up again. Mum’s right. Even being bald is better than that.

Mum bought me the hat afterwards, as a present for being brave. I hope she didn’t see how sad I was. She’d been fussing over the interview all week, buying flowers and hoovering all the furniture. Cookie and I just stayed in my room, out of her way. I chatted on the Wishmakers forum to a younger kid who has muscular dystrophy. Most of the people on the MD forums are boys. Zara teases me that they’re all my boyfriends, but they’re not. They’re just glad someone else knows what it’s like to be left in a chair at the bottom of the stairs in public. Like Mum says, it’s good to feel like I’m helping others.

“You look pretty, Gracie,” Mum said on the morning of the interview, kissing my nose like she always does when she’s excited. “Hat looks fab.”

I wheeled after her as she went through the house straightening straight pictures and plumping already plump cushions.

“Did Maggie say what questions he’s going to ask?”

“Not really, just that it’s about single-parent families and living with disabilities. He’ll probably want to know about your meds, daily life, the usual sort of—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish because the doorbell rang. Mum jumped upright like she was on a spring.

“Oh God, Mouse. He’s here!”

Jon Katrin is tall with curlyish brown hair and some stubble with bits of gray in it. He was dressed a bit like a teenager—jeans and a raincoat. He pulled off his Converse sneakers at the door and I felt Mum raise an eyebrow behind me. She doesn’t really like it when men wear sneakers.

“Cool hat,” he said to me.

I don’t get to meet new people much, especially not dad-aged men, so I asked loads of questions. He told us his wife grew up just outside Ashford, that they moved down from London for a better quality of life, amongst other reasons. I didn’t believe him when he said he loved it. He teased me, said he thought he was supposed to be the interviewer. Mum laughed and squeezed my hand once so I knew it was OK, he was only joking.

It was all going fine until Jon asked about Dad. He’s off-limits, him and Danny. We don’t use their names—it upsets Mum too much. And me. We never talk about Dad but I know Mum worries about him. Especially since he started calling. Last week I even unplugged the phone. I wanted Mum to have some peace.