When Diana had said she needed a quiet place to work because her parents were constantly arguing and it was affecting her creativity, Lydia had said how nice the bookshop was for quiet moments, how Helen had created a reading space in the far corner full of armchairs and bean bags where customers could sit and take a moment.

Diana had asked if Helen would let her use it after hours, but Lydia knew that was out of the question. She’d seen how Helen bristled when Diana was in the room, could feel the snapping tension between them. Instead, she had stolen the spare keys to the shop from the kitchen drawer. Helen had waved the keys at her once when she had brought up the idea of Lydia helping her out in the shop after school. All Helen wanted was cheap labour, someone to do the lifting and carrying for her, someone she could pay next to nothing and chalk it up to “work experience”. Lydia hadn’t fallen for it. She was not going to let her stepmother use her like that. Diana was all about taking control, standing up for yourself, not letting yourself be used by those in positions of power. Lydia needed to be more like Diana.

So she’d swiped the keys and given them to Diana.

She warned her that there was someone living in the flat upstairs, but if she kept quiet and out of sight, she could use it whenever she wanted.

Diana had given her so much advice and help that she just wanted to do something worthwhile back.

You be you, Diana would say to Lydia. Don’t waste energy on other people’s feelings. That’s their problem, not yours. Your happiness is the only thing that matters.

And she was right. For too long, Lydia had let people walk all over her, had remained silent so as to spare other people’s feelings, had swallowed down what she really wanted to say.

Now it was time to be heard, to act, to take control.