Ruby wouldn’t look at me; she looked at her hands instead, her fingers twisting into knots like she wasn’t used to confrontation and she didn’t much care for it. I felt my heart open up and let in something I’d been trying to keep out. I could tell her this. She deserved to know something and maybe we could talk about it. Maybe she’d get it. It didn’t mean I had to talk about Mum. But I could let this one thing out and maybe it wouldn’t feel like I was keeping so much trapped inside me.

I took a deep breath.

“I applied to Oxford last year. I passed the interview. I’m probably going to get the grades I need, but I don’t think I want to go anymore and I haven’t told my dad. He’ll go ballistic.” It was stupid, but I felt nervous saying it and my voice wobbled over the words. When had I become so incapable of being honest?

“OK . . . ?” She drew the word out like a question. “But why couldn’t you tell me that? Why is it such a big secret?”

I laughed, feeling lighter already. “I suppose it isn’t.”

It never occurred to me that I could tell Ruby I didn’t want to go to Oxford and she wouldn’t find that so suspicious that she’d ask loads of follow-up questions.

Later I’d wonder if there was a part of me that wanted her to ask, that wanted her to drag the truth out of me when I couldn’t make myself say it.

She sat down beside me on the bed and played with the loose tendrils of hair around my neck. “You can tell me anything,” she said. “And your dad is going to get over it. It’s obvious he loves you so much. If you want, I’ll help you figure out a way to tell him. I’ll even be there with you if you need me.” She kissed me on the nose.

Tight bands of pressure around my chest released a little. I felt like I’d gotten away with something huge and even got some of the worries I’d been hanging on to off my chest.

“Tell me your thing,” I said, and I meant it. Not just because I’d been burning with curiosity for weeks but because I finally thought that maybe we could share some things without the world cracking open and swallowing me whole. Bend the rules without breaking them. For the good of the montage.

“Really?” she asked softly, looking at me finally.

“Yes. Please tell me.” I reached to hold her hand. “If you want to, of course.”