I had to go to the library this afternoon because I got another notice about overdue books. I told the old bag I’d brought them back, and she said not those, the other ones. I said I didn’t even remember taking that lot out, and she said one of the most astonishing things she’s discovered in her hundred years as a school librarian is the high percentage of teenagers who suffer from amnesia. I said I’d look for them (the books, not the teenagers). When I got home the Mad Cow, Willow and Mars, and Sappho were in session in the kitchen. There was one of those sudden meaningful silences when I shut the front door behind me. “Shhh! The child’s home! Don’t let her hear what we were saying about sex!” (I reckon talking about sex is about as close as any of them get to it. Willow hasn’t been alone with a man since Jupiter’s father did a runner, the Mad Cow and Sigmund DEFINITELY haven’t had sex since Nan moved in – and probably not for the sixteen years before that either – and Sappho, as you know, is a lesbian, which doesn’t really count.) Anyway, by the time I got to the kitchen they were going again at full volume, but now, of course, it wasn’t about sex; it was about food. Simple as peasants, this lot. It’s almost unbelievable. I shouted “Hi!” and everyone looked up, acting surprised to find me in the house. They all said hi back, except the Mad Cow, who gave me this sickly smile like she was trying to be brave and asked me if I’d had a good day. Needless to say, it wasn’t a real question. Before I could even open my mouth to answer they all went back to banging on about root vegetables. Boring or what? I waited for someone to remember I was waiting to speak. It’s just as well I wasn’t holding my breath. “Did someone ask how my day was?” I asked loudly. “Well, to tell you the truth, it was pretty damn awful.” Sappho reminded Willow that she was going to do her chart for her and said that maybe they should go over to hers. This was a hint: they wanted me to vanish. I told them not to bother getting up; I was going to my room to commit suicide. This news had an immediate effect. Mars came over and stuck his nose between my thighs. If you ask me, he should’ve been called Uranus.