FORTY-TWO

I find Ed standing in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the mountain of Disney on my bed. ‘I never had you down as a cuddly toy person, Meg.’

‘They all belong to my mum,’ I say, ‘well, except these two.’ I pull two plush microbes out of the pile. ‘Meet E. coli and Botulism. My mum gave me these.’ I know I’m babbling, but Ed’s still staring at all the Tiggers and Olafs. He picks up a pea pod and unzips it. Three little peas tumble out. Then his eyes fall on the life-size Kristoff.

‘Mum’s,’ I say quickly.

‘I guess your Mum’s into Disney as well as fairies?’

‘Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m called Megara?’ He looks blank so I sift through the toys until I find the only crocheted doll. ‘Meet Megara from Hercules.’

‘I’ve never seen it.’

‘Not many people have, but everyone knows who Elsa’s named after.’

‘Oh yeah,’ he says, pulling out Mum’s biggest Elsa doll. ‘So what’s the fictitious Megara like? How come your mum chose to name you after her?’

I look at the little crocheted doll. Mum actually got someone to make it for her. ‘I can’t remember,’ I say. ‘I’ve not seen the film for years.’ I put the mini-Megara on my bedside table. ‘Mum says she’s feisty.’

Ed starts looking around, taking in my globe and all the space posters. ‘Who are they?’ he asks, pointing at the laminated pictures l’ve stuck to the wall.

‘They’re all the woman who’ve ever been into space. Fifty-nine, so far.’

I try to read the expression on Ed’s face as he studies the pictures of suited-up astronauts. Then he goes to my desk and picks up my Russian phrase book. ‘Are you learning Russian?’

‘Da,’ I say.

‘Because …?’

I straighten up the book he’s put down. Except for Harriet, Ed is the only person from school ever to set foot in my bedroom. Part of me wants to march him back into the living room and get him working on our speeches again, but he seems genuinely intrigued by everything – he seems genuinely intrigued by me – and I realise that I want to tell him the truth. But that’s a big step. I look up at Valentina Tereshkova and she looks calmly back at me. Just jump, her eyes say. I turn to face Ed.

‘I’m learning Russian because the Soyuz rockets that take astronauts to the International Space Station have control panels and instruction booklets written in Russian.’

He stares at me. ‘So you actually want to be …’

‘An astronaut,’ I say, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel like I’ve just said I want to be a princess or a dinosaur. I laugh. ‘I mean, I know it’s extremely unlikely to happen …’

‘Why?’ He fires this back at me.

‘Because hardly anyone gets to do it, but I’ve got a plan B – becoming a test pilot.’

‘Stick to plan A,’ he says. ‘You’d make a good astronaut.’