I spent days planning my outfit even though my choices were pretty limited and eventually settled for my favourite pair of three-quarter length jeans, my one underwired bra, which I think Dad must have bought by accident (my others were plain, greying white and soft) and a V-necked T-shirt which was very slightly fitted.

I twisted my hair up and pinned it, and pinched my cheeks to make them pink like I’d seen a girl do once in some film or other.

Then, I crept down the stairs and out of the back door. Holding my breath, I tiptoed round to the front of the house and hid behind a bush which gave me a perfect view of the driveway. Dad very rarely came to my room – he seemed to make a point of never coming up so I’d ‘have my privacy’ – so as long as he didn’t actually see me leaving, I felt like I could probably get away with it. Even so, I was so nervous I was almost surprised he couldn’t hear my heart beating from the kitchen, it seemed so loud to me.

Fred’s van arrived and I watched as he parked, got out and unloaded what must be the new washing machine using a trolley. I held my breath and pushed myself further into the bush as Dad opened the door and ushered him in. I waited, holding my breath – how long did installing a washing machine take? I had no idea.

Almost an hour later he reappeared with the old machine on the same trolley and called a goodbye to Dad, who, to my relief, closed the door immediately.

I stuck my head up above the bush and in a low voice, called ‘Fred!’

He looked round, startled, still loading the machine into the van. Then, as he caught my eye, he grinned.

‘Laura!’ he said, mimicking my muted tone. ‘How are you?’ he mouthed. ‘Why are you hiding in a bush?’

I beckoned him over. ‘I’m hiding so he doesn’t know I’m talking to you. Once you’ve got the old machine loaded, you need to move your van if we’re going to chat. Otherwise Dad will know you haven’t gone.’

He looked around. ‘Erm … OK. I’ll meet you at the bend in your drive. Your dad won’t be able to see us there.’

Heart in my mouth, I raced down to the bend in the drive, weaving in and out of the trees and staying well away from the line of sight of the house.

As I heard the van approaching I leaned back against a tree, arranging myself in a pose I hoped look casual and as if I talked to boys all the time, as opposed to never, pushing my too-small boobs out a little bit and running my hands through my hair.