I run my hands over the ruined cover. I covered it perfectly in sticky plastic – there wasn’t a single air bubble or crease – and now it’s ruined. Mum said this would be fun! This isn’t fun. It’s noisy and messy and chaotic.

‘Who wants to watch Peppa Pig?’ I say. I know I do.

After watching eight back–to–back episodes of Peppa Pig, I look up and notice that it’s gone seven. That’s when I switch from feeling annoyed to worried. Mum’s never left me with Elsa for this long before. Usually it’s just half an hour while she pops to the shops. I tell myself she must be held up in traffic and that she’ll be back at any moment, but when it gets to seven thirty and I see Elsa trying to eat a plastic carrot, I realise I’m going to have to feed her. The only problem is, I’ve never fed Elsa before and I’m not that sure what she likes to eat …

Beans, I decide. Everyone likes baked beans.

‘Dinner time!’ I say, putting a bowl of beans down on the tray of the high chair.

Elsa’s excited. So excited that her hands slam down and the bowl flips over. Beans splatter across the high chair and the floor – a few even hit the fridge – then Elsa grabs a handful and starts stuffing them in her mouth.

‘Hey,’ I say, holding out a spoon. ‘Ever thought of using this?’

She takes the spoon off me and tosses it over her shoulder. Then she rubs her beany hands into her wispy hair.

I’m starting to get why Mum gives Elsa her bath after she’s eaten. I’ve never really paid much attention to what they do in the evening because I’m usually in my room, but I know the order: food, bath, bed.

Elsa starts rubbing bean juice into her eyes.

‘Tired?’ I say. ‘Do you want to go to bed?’

‘Na!’ she says, shaking her head.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ I say, unclipping her from the high chair. I’ve always wondered why Mum doesn’t put Elsa to bed earlier. She’d have loads more free time if she did. All I have to do is change her nappy, get her in her Babygro and pop her in her cot, then the rest of the evening is mine!

‘Na!’ Elsa screams, as I pick her up. ‘Na, na!’

‘Can’t hear you!’ I say. I’m way behind on my homework, but if I go to bed late, I should be able to catch up.

NINE

Why won’t she stop crying? I’m sitting with my forehead resting on Mum’s bedroom door with my speech cards arranged around me. I swear Elsa’s screams are making the door vibrate. It’s lucky that Elizabeth downstairs is deaf because Elsa’s been crying on and off for three hours. When I go in and see her she stops crying, but the moment I shut the door, the screaming starts again.