‘Sorry, but I think we need to be realistic. There’s only a tiny chance that she won’t totally freak out.’

‘Then why are we going through with it?’ I asked as the lift doors opened. ‘Why did we even start this in the first place?’

‘Because a tiny chance is still a chance. And that makes it worth it.’ She stepped out and started marching towards the ward entrance. ‘Now, are you going to tell her or shall I?’

Before we had a chance to decide, my phone rang. Thinking it might be Carole, I whipped it out of my bag and saw that it was in fact Steph. For Steph to phone me on a weekday afternoon was unusual enough to make me answer.

‘Hey, everything all right?’ I asked.

‘Yes, fine. Are you okay, you sound stressed?’

‘I thought it must be an emergency.’

‘Oh, no, I’ve got the afternoon off, had a doctor’s appointment. So now I’m feeling depressed and was looking for something to cheer me up, and then I remembered your party.’

‘My party?’ I glanced at Joan, who was making impatient gestures in the direction of the ward.

‘Yes. How are the plans coming along? Have you got a date yet? Because I was thinking that you might as well go for your actual birthday. I mean, how often does a thirtieth end up on a Saturday? But you would need to decide soon, so that other people don’t start making plans, and although that’s not that long away, it’s plenty of time for us to—’

‘Yes.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, great idea. I’ll have it on my birthday.’

‘Fantastic! Let me just… there… it’s in my calendar. So. What about the theme? I presume you’re not going to stick to Harry Potter and drunk Jenga! I mean, with it being August you can use that amazing garden, do something outside.’

Joan was gripping two huge handfuls of hair and pulling on them, face screwed up in frustration.

‘Fine, yes. I’ll have a… barbecue?’

‘Okay, good idea. But you do need a bit more than that, for it to be worthy of the Dream List. What other ideas have you got?’

‘Um, to be honest, Steph, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back.’

For the first time since I’d got a phone for my thirteenth birthday, I hung up on her. By the time I’d slipped my phone away, Joan was already pressing the intercom buzzer for the door to the ward.

In the end, neither of us had to find the gumption to bring it up. As soon as she saw Joan, Leanne’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern.

‘What’s up, Diamanté Butterfly?’ she asked, leaning forwards in the hospital armchair.

Joan looked straight at me.