“No, I’m not. I just… have some stuff to ask her for French homework, that’s all. Ok, you’re on for the party, but any damage or mess and you have to help me tidy it up. I cannot have my father on my case for anything else.”

My parents will be away for about six weeks, so plenty of time to get the party organised and spread the word. Of course, El will take over all of the arrangements. She already has plenty of ideas.

I’ll need to get a new bikini – and maybe not eat anything between now and then. El is drinking this detox green tea at the moment and only eating celery from what I can see. Negative calories in celery apparently. Maybe I should try that. I wish I had her willpower. She can be really single-minded when it comes to food. If she says she is not going to eat for a day, she will clamp her lips shut and they will stay that way. I make these declarations, then end up thinking so much about food that I end up eating anything I can get my hands on. I start each day thinking I will be good and only eat fruit and vegetables, and then by the time I get home from school, Martha is there with a plate of freshly baked cookies or a Victoria sponge and it all goes out the window, not to mention her lovely dinners. By bedtime, I lie there with my hands on my rounded belly, berating my weak willpower and promising myself I will do better tomorrow.

But I never learn.

Of course, if El doesn’t see me eating, the calories don’t count, right?

I could tell Martha that I only want salads, but she gives me these pinched lip looks and tells me there is nothing wrong with the way I look and then I feel awful that she has spent time cooking for me when I am the only one eating. My mother hasn’t eaten a proper meal since 1972.

Tracey walks past us as we head into class after lunch. El is still talking about the party before loudly shushing us all when she sees Tracey, which is incredibly awkward. I’ll tell Tracey about the party after school anyway. I hope she comes.