“Welcome,” she says in a soft voice.

“Did you create these prints?” asks Suze, and as the woman nods her head, Suze adds, “I love them!”

As I stroll around, I can hear Suze asking lots of questions about printmaking. The thing about Suze is, she’s very artistic. She could totally open a shop like this. In fact, maybe that’s what she should do at Letherby Hall: “The Letherby Print Collection.” It would be fantastic! I’m just squirreling this idea away to tell her later, when I come across a display of pencils and stop dead. Wow. I’ve never seen such amazing pencils.

They’re a little thicker than normal pencils, and each is covered in a different print. But not just that: The wood’s colored too. There are orange-print pencils with lavender-colored wood…turquoise-print pencils with crimson wood….They’re just stunning. As I raise one to my nose, I can smell this gorgeous, wafty, sandalwood-y scent.

“Are you buying one, Becky?” says Mum, and I swivel round to see her, Dad, and Janice approaching. Mum’s carrying three box files decorated with a tree print, and Janice has about a dozen tea towels covered in pumpkins.

“Oh no,” I say automatically, and put the pencil back. “They’re lovely, though, aren’t they?”

“They’re only two forty-nine,” says Mum, picking up a green-leaf-print pencil with amber wood. “You should get one.”

“It’s fine,” I say hastily. “What are you getting?”

“I’m organizing my life,” says Mum with a flourish. “It’s all changing.” She taps each box file in turn. “Letters, warranties, and printed-out emails. They’ll be the death of me. All over the kitchen.”

“Why do you print out your emails?” I say, puzzled.

“Oh, I can’t read emails on the screen.” Mum wrinkles her nose as though this is a mad idea. “I don’t know how you do that, love. And Luke! Doing all his business on a tiny little phone! How on earth does he manage it?”

“You could increase the font size,” I suggest, whereupon Mum looks as though I’ve said, You could travel to Mars.

“I’ll buy myself a set of box files.” She pats them fondly. “Much simpler.”

OK. I already know Mum’s next birthday present. A day with an IT tutor.

“So, what are you getting?” Mum looks over the display. “What about a pencil? They’re lovely.”

“Nothing.” I smile. “Let’s go and pay for your box files.”

“Bex doesn’t shop anymore,” says Suze, joining us. “Even if she can afford it.” She’s holding Minnie’s hand and they’re both clutching what look like aprons decorated with rabbits.

“What do you mean, she doesn’t shop anymore?” says Mum, looking baffled.

“I tried to buy her a pair of cowboy boots. She wouldn’t let me.”

“I didn’t need cowboy boots.”

“Well, you need a pencil!” says Mum brightly. “You can use it to write out your plan, love.”

“I don’t.” I abruptly turn away. “Let’s go.”

“They’re only two forty-nine,” points out Suze, picking one up. “Wow, they smell amazing.”

I let my gaze run over the pencils, feeling all twisty and miserable again. They are gorgeous. And of course I can afford one. But something’s blocking me. I can hear that horrible voice inside my head again.