Today has been the best day ever. I thought it was going to be a bit of a boring weekend, but Mum woke me up this morning while Isaac and Dad were still asleep and told me to get dressed as quickly as possible cos we were having a day out. She made me be really quiet so that I didn’t wake Isaac up. I wanted to tell her that she had no worries on that account – I’d gone to the loo at 3 a.m. and he was still playing games on his PlayStation so it was unlikely that he’d be awake much before lunchtime – but I didn’t want to ruin her good mood so I said nothing.

Then, when we were in the car, she said that we were going to spend the day shopping – and not just in town but somewhere bigger with proper shops and a pizza restaurant and everything!

I cannot believe the cool stuff that Mum bought me today. It’s as if every birthday I’m ever going to have came at the same time. We started off looking for clothes and she didn’t get distracted once – normally we start off shopping for me but she gets sidetracked with stuff that she wants and then, just when I’m thinking it’s my turn, she realizes that the car park ticket is about to run out and we have to sprint back to the car before the ticket warden gives Mum yet another fine.

Today, though, we went into my favourite ever clothes shop and she bought me a pair of new jeans and a cool pair of combat trousers and then, when I saw a super-awesome tube top in neon orange, she just picked it up and added it to the pile, cool as a cucumber! She didn’t even look at the price.

Then we bought loads of T-shirts and a couple of sweatshirts for me – I guess she must think I’ll need them and I’m not complaining. Everything was a bit big, but Mum says I’ll grow into it all and it’s better to buy larger now so that I don’t need new clothes for a while.

The only embarrassing part of the day was when she dragged me into the massive department store next to the bank. I was really in the swing of shopping by now, carrier bags in both hands, and I thought that maybe she wanted to get us lunch or something. But, instead, we went upstairs to the underwear department where she stocked up with about a year’s supply of knickers and socks and then, horror of horrors, forced me into a changing room and told me to strip.

‘It’s a very momentous day, darling – buying your first bra!’ said Mum, while taking my bags from me and putting them down in the corner of the huge cubicle.

Now, I’m not usually shy and while I was loving all the attention that Mum was giving me, I can tell you, one hundred per cent truthfully, that I have absolutely, definitely no use for a bra of any kind. My crop tops are fine. All the girls will laugh themselves silly if I turn up in the changing rooms wearing an actual bra – I’ll look like a total try-hard. I did my best to convey this message to Mum in a simple but efficient manner.

‘No way, Mum – are you out of your mind?’ I said, while crossing my arms across my front and backing away from her.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, Liv – think of it as part of your journey into womanhood!’ Mum said. ‘Come on now – coat off. That nice lady will be in with her tape measure in a moment.’

Oh, great. Totally fantastic. Not only was I going to have the indignity of Mum grinning away like a maniac, I’d have to cope with some old woman seeing me in all my non-glory.

‘Are we all ready in there?’ called the old woman.

‘One moment, please!’ called back Mum chirpily, while hissing at me to ‘take that coat off and stop behaving like a big ninny’.

Ninny? What is a ninny anyway?

‘All ready for you now!’ she chirruped to the shop lady, who parted the curtains as enthusiastically as Moses parting the Red Sea and sailed into my cubicle.

‘Aahh – first bra, is it?’ she cooed.

The sight of me cowering in the corner, red as a tomato, must have given her a clue.

‘Oh, I love it when the young girls come in with their mums. Like a rite of passage, it is! Come on now, lovely – arms out to the side and stand here where I can measure you.’

‘Hope your tape measure has negative numbers,’ I mumbled, but she and Mum were too busy chattering about the thrill of buying your first womanly undergarments to hear me.

Bra Lady got to work, wrapping the tape measure round my non-existent chest and squinting to read the result. I wanted to reassure her that she wasn’t losing her eyesight – my chest really is that small, but the way Mum was looking at me (a combination of pride, love and threat) stopped me saying anything. Turns out that I didn’t need to.

‘She’s quite … uhhm … petite, dear,’ she said, turning to Mum. ‘I think it might be better to wait another six months and come back then, perhaps when she’s grown a bit more. Or maybe get her a training bra. They’re quite popular with the younger girls.’

‘No, I’d rather we got it now,’ smiled Mum. Well, her mouth was smiling but her eyes were giving out quite a different message altogether.

‘If you’re sure, dear,’ agreed Bra Lady, turning back to me and tweaking the tape measure. ‘It’s just that she is incredibly tiny and we don’t stock proper bras in this size. I don’t think we actually make them this small. Never mind, lovey – I’ll find you the smallest one we’ve got and you’ll grow into it eventually.’

Bra Lady breezed back out of the cubicle. I grabbed my T-shirt and started pulling it over my head, desperate to get out of there.

‘Come on, Mum – let’s go,’ I said, but Mum just stood there, looking at me with a funny expression on her face. ‘Mum! You heard her. I don’t even need a bra yet. It’ll be a complete waste of money.’

I was sure that’d get her to see sense. Mum hates wasting money and she’s always going on about watching the pennies. She gave her head a little shake and then picked up her bag.

‘Oh, Liv, this was a daft idea. I just really wanted to do this with you. I was being silly – I’m sorry, sweetheart.’

She looked so sad for a moment and I couldn’t work out why our day suddenly didn’t feel so good. I wondered if I’d done something wrong; I suppose I did make a bit of a fuss about getting measured.

‘I don’t mind if you want to buy me a bra, Mum, but I don’t want to wear it for school yet, that’s all. And it was embarrassing when that lady came in.’

Mum looked at me again and smiled. ‘I wasn’t thinking about it properly. We can still do this, but we don’t need anyone to help us. It’ll be lots more fun on our own, you’ll see. Hurry up, coat on, and let’s go!’

And you know what? Mum was right. She was determined that I needed to buy a bra and that, even if it didn’t fit me now, I’d ‘definitely need it in the next year so it isn’t a waste of money’. Personally, I think she’s a bit deluded in her predictions – can’t see me needing one in the next five years, but it was fun in the end. She found Bra Lady and thanked her for her help, and then we went to some amazing shops and chose tiny bras that even I have to admit are pretty cool. I’m quite looking forward to being old enough to wear them, but for now they’re in my cupboard, all wrapped up in gorgeous tissue paper.

After underwear shopping Mum was exhausted and we went to get a pizza for lunch (I didn’t even have to beg her!). And after that was the best bit. Mum took me down a street that I hadn’t been to before and led me into a real-life tattoo parlour! No, don’t worry – I didn’t get a tattoo (she hasn’t gone officially insane, just a bit loopy). It’s way better than that. I am now the proud owner of a pair of pierced ears! Mum reckons that tattoo parlours have to keep a good reputation and can’t afford to be shoddy over customer hygiene, so she’d rung them up and had a good chat, and they’d told her all about the certificates they have to get to show that they’re a safe place – then she’d made me an appointment.

I love, love, love my ears! They’ve got cute little studs in at the moment but in six weeks I can change them, and Mum took me straight from getting them done to buy some dangly ones for when I can wear them! Not for school, she said, but I can wear them at weekends. They’re totally gorgeous – long silver strands that swoosh together and make a tinkling sound. I love them!

Mum was tired again after all the excitement so we went for a coffee and a sandwich. And then we went to the cinema. Just us two – not with Dad and Isaac. Can’t remember the last time we did that. I spent most of the time twiddling my earrings until Mum told me to stop and that I’d infect my ears with nasty germs.

I was worn out on the way home but so happy! When we got back, I showed Dad my new ears and went straight up to bed. I cleaned my teeth and then realized that I’d left my new clothes downstairs so I went down to fetch them. I could hear Dad before I’d even got to the end of the hall.

‘I’m not trying to spoil things, Rachel. I’m just worried, that’s all.’

I could hear Mum crashing things about in the sink. ‘We had a great day, Dan – can’t that be enough?’

‘It’s not enough and you know it. You can’t buy her off. Money is not going to make everything OK for her, you know that. She needs to be told the truth and she needs to know it soon.’

There was a bigger crash as if something had fallen (or been thrown) and then the sound of Mum yelling.

‘Of course I know, you idiot, but maybe it’s all I’ve got to give right now – have you thought of that? The truth isn’t going to make this OK, is it? I’m lying awake at nights wondering how to explain it to her. And as for helping Isaac make sense of it, well …’

Everything went quiet for a moment and then I could hear muffled sobbing.

I backtracked along the hall, past the photos of Isaac and me as babies, and Aunt Leah graduating from university, and Mum and Dad lying on a beach somewhere exotic. I backed up the stairs, never taking my eyes off the kitchen door, which stayed shut. Only when I reached the landing did I dare to turn and run as quickly as possible to my bedroom door, which I slammed shut behind me before throwing myself on the bed. I can’t believe it. Not my mum and dad? I knew something was wrong but what I’ve just heard confirms my worst suspicions.

They must be getting a divorce and Mum is trying to figure out how to tell me.

Where will we live? Isaac couldn’t cope with moving house. What if they make us choose who we want to stay with? How can they be so selfish – I bet they haven’t thought about us at all.