Dr Frayne looked at Mum and said, ‘You still tie this girl’s hair up in ringlet rags, Mrs Wilson? I thought we’d decided to stop doing that? The last thing this girl needs to worry about is enlarged pores. I would worry more about why she still picks the sores in her head at night if I were you. And I have no doubt you’ve searched the chemist shelves for pore cream and will do so again. Medical science can’t help with vanity.’

He looked down at the yellow card and made more scratches. Mum and I sat perfectly still for a few minutes until it was clear he wasn’t going to speak to us again. Mum stood up, squared her shoulders, flicked her hair out of her eyes, took her clutch bag in both hands and stomped to the door. I stood to follow.

‘Thank you, Dr Frayne,’ I said quietly as I turned to go. He waved me back over with the four fingers of his right hand, and I stepped back close to him.

‘Take some jelly beans, Dorcas,’ he said, pushing his big jar near my good hand. ‘Goodness knows it’s the only thing I can offer you, child.’ I thought he looked very sad.

Mum clearly didn’t want me to stay home from school, and neither did I, but a doctor is a doctor and we both knew we had to do what he said. When we got home, she told me to make myself scarce because she had Mrs Johns coming over and they wouldn’t want a child listening to grown-up talk. She was actually a bit kind for a while and put me to bed with my sore hand on top of two pillows and brought me a Wagon Wheel from the top pantry cupboard where she kept the treats, and stroked my head for a few minutes and asked me if I’d like a book to read while she did Mrs Johns’s hair. I think I slept for quite a while, because when I woke up and walked into the kitchen the stuff from Mrs Johns’s perm was on the sink and Mum was asleep on her bed.

I was feeling very desperate about Sixpence again and decided to go outside and think about whether I could borrow money the next day and try to get into town to rescue her. I still hadn’t worked out how to get Sixpence home on the bus with a cage though, so I thought I’d sit on Mr Driver’s fence and think very fiercely about an answer.

It wasn’t easy climbing the wooden fence with a very sore hand, and my balance wasn’t as good as usual, so it probably wasn’t a surprise that I fell sort of sideways into his garden and landed on my sore hand. I didn’t want to, but this made me scream out with pain and I heard Mr Driver open his back door and run over to me.

‘Dorcas, what are you doing home from school? Are you okay, child?’ He helped me to sit up and then saw my hand. ‘Goodness. That swelled up fast.’