I look up. ‘It’s my sister. She’s ill and the nursery wants me to take her home.’

‘Can’t your mum do it?’

‘No. She’s busy. I’ll try my grandad.’ I ring his house but he doesn’t pick up and his mobile goes straight to voicemail. ‘No answer,’ I say.

‘OK, so just tell Mr Curtis when he gets back. He’ll let you go if it’s an emergency.’

I think about the questions Mr Curtis will ask, how he’ll want to speak to my mum to check I’m allowed out of school. The panic that I’m becoming so used to bubbles up inside me, making me feel hot all over. ‘No. I can’t do that.’

Annie stares at me. ‘That frown’s come back and it’s bigger than ever.’

‘Yeah, well … I’m worried.’ For a moment, I think about telling Annie everything. Maybe she could make me feel better about Mum, just like she’s made me feel better about Bella and Ed … No. I don’t really know her and if I tell her; things will only get more complicated than they already are.

Annie’s hand lands on my arm again, only this time her fingers don’t dig in. ‘Relax, Meg. I can get you out of school. It’s so easy.’

Five minutes later, Annie’s forged note about my orthodontist’s appointment (investigative wisdom tooth work) has been signed off by Mr Curtis and the receptionist.

‘Wisdom teeth?’ she says. ‘Nasty. I imagine you’ll be needing tomorrow off as well.’

‘Maybe …’

‘Off you go then!’

And that’s it. I’m walking out of school, a free woman. Well, as free as a fifteen-year-old can feel when she’s going to pick up her baby sister with her ‘nasty nappies’, whatever that means. I walk quickly down the high street, trying not to think about all the work I’m going to miss at school and reminding myself that Mum’s back in just five days.

Even though five days feels like six years away right now, I can’t help smiling.

Geek-rack. Annie doesn’t know what she’s talking about …

THIRTY-SIX

‘Here she is,’ says Dawn, dumping Elsa in my arms.

Usually when I pick Elsa up, she gives me some sort of violent affection like scratching my face or grabbing at my nose, but today she just slumps in my arms and sucks her thumb. I put my hand on her red cheek. It feels dry and far too hot. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s running a temperature. Your mum will know what to do.’ Dawn passes me her bag. ‘I’m surprised your mum sent her in because she obviously wasn’t right this morning.’

‘She ate all her breakfast.’

‘She had a temperature,’ says Dawn, folding her arms.

‘Sorry,’ I say, because I think it’s what she’s waiting for. Then I turn and walk down the path.

‘Tell your mum not to send her back until she’s totally better.’

‘I will!’ I call back.

I take Elsa straight home then ring Grandad. This time he answers.