‘You too, Miss Carter.’ She put the phone down and sat on the stairs with her head in her hands. Her legs were shaking and a sick feeling swirled in her gut. What was she going to do? She thought about going to the tech, a drab, square red-brick building with a flat roof, where students, mainly dum-dums and boys training to be mechanics, gathered noisily on the steps. She hated even walking past, always looking the other way with a cloak of self-consciousness about her shoulders. She shuddered at the very idea of walking up the steps and into a class at the start of a new term and into a building full of people who were also there to repeat the year. But the fact was, this was where she actually belonged. Her results confirmed it. She wrapped her arms around her torso and thought she might actually throw up. What she wanted was for things to remain exactly the same and to be able to walk to school with Michelle each morning, chatting about stupid things, laughing about the inane and using their special code to talk about boys.

This thought was immediately followed by the memory of her friend’s face looking at her with eyes wide, excited at the mere mention of the boy she liked. Her boy! Her breath came in fast bursts that left her a little light-headed and with the start of something close to panic building in her chest. She gripped the banister and slowed her breathing.

Come on, Bessie! Get a grip!

Okay, so what was the alternative to the tech? Maybe she should write to the airlines straight away? See if she could work her way up? It felt like the beginnings of Plan B and gave her the smallest lift.

‘What did Miss Carter say?’ Her mum’s voice made her jump.

‘She said I would feel better in time, or something like that.’

‘And she’s right!’ Her mum gripped the banister.

‘The thing is, Mum, I knew I hadn’t sailed through the exams, they were hard, but I filled pages with answers, and I thought they’d at least be able to pick out some stuff that was worthy of marking.’ She shook her head at her own naivety. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘You mustn’t dwell on it, love.’

‘It’s hard not to. I thought I’d go into sixth form and then up in the air! But now what?’ She looked up at her mum, who looked a little lost for answers.

‘I guess you regroup and rethink and make a new plan.’ She ran her hand over her daughter’s pineapple ponytail. ‘And Miss Carter’s right – it’ll all come out in the wash. You have options. There’ll be another way to achieve your dreams.’