FORTY-NINE

For the rest of the week, two things dominate my life: money and the NASA competition. Grandad and I haven’t got enough of the first and I haven’t got enough time to do the second. Grandad’s pension is coming through on Friday, but by Wednesday we’ve only got one sad little five-pound note left. I’ve counted all of Elsa’s nappies and unless she eats something seriously dodgy, I shouldn’t have to buy any more. Grandad and I both agree that the only thing we can spend money on is milk and fruit for Elsa.

So Grandad and I live off the food we already have. That night we have sweetcorn and mayonnaise toasties, on Wednesday we have pasta cooked in soup and Thursday sees us eating our worst dinner yet: rice and baked beans. Grandad covers his in chilli powder and claims it’s delicious.

But on Friday – pension day – when I walk into Grandad’s house with Elsa, I’m hit by an amazing smell.

‘Curry!’ shouts Grandad from the kitchen. I find him pulling cartons out of a plastic bag. ‘Tonight we eat like kings, Meg!’

I start peeling back the cardboard lids; steam bursts off saffron-specked rice and crisp pakoras. ‘Are we celebrating having money again?’

‘No, we’re celebrating you completing your mission.’ He bangs plates down on the table. ‘Your mum rang. She’s at the airport about to get on a plane.’

I look up at him. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’ He pours Coke into a glass for me. ‘And we’re celebrating you beating all those other kids in that competition tomorrow and going to Houston.’ He looks up at me and gives me a quick smile. ‘You know your mum won’t make it back on time to watch, don’t you? She’s got two changes to make.’

‘I know. That’s OK.’ Mum’s managed to ring a few times throughout the week, but always when I’ve been at school. It’s hard to believe she’s actually on her way home. I look up at Grandad. ‘Actually,’ I say, trying to sound as casual as possible, ‘I’ve got some friends coming.’

‘Have you now!’ Grandad’s intrigued.

‘It’s not that big a deal,’ I say, laughing, although of course I know it is a big deal. I don’t think I’ve mentioned a single friend since Harriet left. ‘You know how I told you about Biscuit Club? Well, they’re all coming – Annie, Rose, Jackson, even my teacher Mr Curtis.’

‘Meg, that’s brilliant,’ says Grandad. ‘And you’ll have me and Elsa too, watching you up on that stage, cheering you on.’

I was starving a second ago, but now I feel slightly queasy. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it, Grandad.’ I sit down. ‘I ran through my whole speech today with Rose …’

‘And?’

‘I remembered every word.’ Rose has spent each lunchtime this week helping me build my memory palace.

‘But that’s good news!’ Grandad says.

‘I was like a talking textbook …’ I say. ‘Are my hands shaking?’ I hold them out in front of me. ‘They are!’