‘This is the life.’ Mum holds her glass out towards me, over her bowl of seafood noodle soup. ‘A good chardonnay, nice food, a daughter to die for …’

‘I hope you don’t have to do that,’ I laugh, clinking my lemonade against her wine.

‘It’s just an expression, my dear,’ she says happily as she expertly lifts a prawn out of her soup with her chopsticks. She’s really pleased with herself for finishing that big project she’s been working on.

‘You look nice,’ I tell her. She’s wearing the dangly gold lightning-bolt earrings I got her for Christmas, and makeup. The table hides how much weight she’s put on her stomach and hips. From the chest up she still looks pretty.

‘Thanks, kid.’ She gives me a big smile.

We came to the Vietnamese tonight instead of last night like we intended, because I had the sleep-over. On Friday when I told Mum I needed to change our plans, I was afraid she might chuck a fit. But she understood. On the way to Olivia’s she took me to Coles to get the vanilla Coke, and she spotted some Dove chocolate on special and told me to buy a couple of bars of that as well. I feel a little sick when I think of the Dove. I kept it a secret till 1:00 a.m. when we were in our sleeping bags on the lounge room floor watching Nightmare on Elm Street on Olivia’s widescreen TV. When I produced the chocolate, Tiffany and Olivia jumped out of their sleeping bags and pounced on me, screeching, ‘Yum! Dove!’ But Charlotte stayed where she was.

‘Come on,’ Tiffany coaxed her, ‘have some.’

‘I don’t like that stuff,’ Charlotte said in a sulky voice. ‘Cadbury’s heaps better.’

I know what she meant. She meant she doesn’t like me. And I don’t know why! All the rest of the time, till we left on Sunday, I tried being super nice to her. But she acted like I was offering her a boxful of mouse turds. Mum picked me up first, so I have a feeling – actually it’s stronger than a feeling, I more or less know – that after I left, Charlotte tried to convince Tiffany and Olivia that I shouldn’t be in their group.

‘What’s wrong?’ Mum asks me.

‘Nothing!’ I say, savagely stabbing a snow pea with a chopstick. As if I could ask my mother the question that’s on my mind. Namely, what is it about me that kids my own age don’t like? I bet anything Charlotte has pointed it out to Tiffany and Olivia in gory detail. Maybe I should restrict my social life to people under six. I seem to be super popular with them. I never had to worry for a second whether Bethany or Erin liked me. Or Jake … I remember his hard little hands clinging to me at the airport.

‘You’re sure acting like there’s something bothering you,’ Mum persists. ‘Come on,’ she says gently, ‘you can tell me.’

I look up at her. She was in such a good mood a couple of minutes ago. I don’t want to wreck that. But there is something bothering me. Sooner or later, I have to bring up this subject that Mum won’t like. It’ll make her mad no matter when I mention it. Maybe I should try and keep her happy tonight? I’m still debating when I hear myself blurt out, ‘Can I go to Canberra again?’

‘When?’ Her gentle smile has vanished.

‘Maybe next weekend? Or the one after?’

‘You just got back from there!’ She winds some noodles around her chopsticks and pops them in her mouth, but I can tell she’s not tasting them. I don’t like being responsible for that sour look on her face. But I had to ask her some time!

‘Sarah and Dad’ll pay,’ I say.

‘It’s not that!’

‘What is it then?’

She doesn’t say anything, just frowns furiously at something over my left shoulder. But her silence doesn’t hide anything because I already know the answer to my question. She’s always hated sharing me with Dad, hated me being in the same room with the Home Wrecker who took her man. When I was little I wanted to stay away from Sarah because of how she hurt Mum. But since Jake was born I’ve got to know her really well, and I can’t help it if I like her!

‘I want to see Alice while she’s still little,’ I say, and then I turn to see what Mum’s staring at. It’s a painting of an Oriental lake with some pointy mountains behind it. When I turn back, there are tears in Mum’s eyes. Jeez. Why does she have to act like I’m betraying her if I mention Alice’s name?

‘She is my sister,’ I point out.

‘Your half-sister,’ she answers bitterly.

‘She’s not a half-sister to me!’ There are tears in my voice now. ‘She’s a whole gorgeous little baby. Just because you hate her!’

‘Stop shouting,’ Mum says, looking around nervously at the other customers. But I don’t care who hears me. Sometimes my mother goes too far.