Grandad puts Elsa in her high chair and gives her a bowl full of curry and rice. Her hands plunge straight in. ‘I’ve got the answer for that.’

‘Really?’

‘Clench your buttocks. It’s almost physically impossible for your hands to shake if you tighten your thigh or buttock muscles.’

I can’t resist trying it out. ‘Hey, it works!’

‘There we go.’

‘But I’m still nervous; you just can’t see my physical symptoms any more!’

‘Tell yourself it isn’t nerves, it’s excitement.’ He pulls a naan bread out of a bag and tears it in half. ‘You’re excited because you’re about to do something amazing.’

‘No, I’m fairly certain I’m just really nervous because tomorrow I’m going to have to walk on to a stage –’ I pause here to take a breath ‘– look at a room full of teenagers and adults and deliver a complex speech … from memory.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s so –’

‘Exciting!’

‘Terrifying!’

Grandad has to be one of the most optimistic people in the world. As we eat, I go obsessively over our arrangements for tomorrow. The competition starts at two, so I’m going to spend the morning relaxing with Elsa and Pongo (ha!) then drop the two of them off at Grandad’s after lunch so I can get to school early. Grandad and Elsa will come along just before it starts.

‘I’m not sure about Elsa coming,’ I say. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate if I can hear her crying.’

‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll take her straight out if she makes a fuss.’

The curry is delicious, but after a few more mouthfuls I put my fork down.

‘Look,’ says Grandad, ‘you’re so excited you can’t eat!’

FIFTY

‘Cards, phone, water, nappies, Annie’s paper poo bear …’ As I walk to Grandad’s, I run through everything I need, even though I already checked and double-checked my bags at the flat. ‘Elsa, Pongo …’ I mutter, gripping the pushchair a bit tighter and checking that Pongo’s lead is still wrapped around my wrist. He saw a squirrel a minute ago and nearly pulled us over trying to get at it.

In an unexpected role-reversal, last night Elsa slept the whole night through, but I woke up every couple of hours. This morning I took it easy. Elsa and I had a mammoth Peppa Pig session then we took Pongo for a quick walk at the rec. I didn’t look at my speech once. I thought it would only make me nervous.

One thing I must remember to do at Grandad’s is go to the toilet. When Yuri Gagarin was on his way to the space shuttle – all suited up – he made them stop the bus so he could do a wee at the side of the road. All cosmonauts leaving from Baikonur do this now and I can see why Gagarin started the tradition: doing something ‘exciting’ makes you want to wee. Simple as that.

Grandad’s front door is unlocked as usual. ‘Grandad!’ I shout. There’s no answer, so I pull the pushchair inside and shout again. I stick my head in the front room, but he’s not there. The house is eerily quiet so I run upstairs then check the garden. Where is he? Worry prickles through me, but I tell myself he must have popped to the Co-op or gone to visit a neighbour. There’s no way Grandad could have forgotten what is happening today.