On Wednesday, Harper and Misha froze when the door opened and Mr Glass poked his head inside.

‘Just checking on your progress,’ he said. ‘May I come in?’

Harper and Misha showed him what they’d been doing. He didn’t talk at all, which made them nervous. But as he was leaving he said, with a serious face, ‘I’m excited about this.’

They tried to cover up their laughter after he shut the door.

‘I’m excited about this,’ Harper mimicked in a deep voice.

‘I can’t wait,’ said Misha, as low as she could make her voice go.

Misha had been working backwards through the timeline: the 2010s, the 2000s, the 1990s, and the 1980s, when her mum was at Riverlark. Harper was at the other end, starting with the 1870s. They’d meet in the middle.

‘We can do a separate section for 2020, our graduating year,’ said Misha. ‘With things from remote learning as well.’

Harper was researching on the library computer. The blue typewriter was from the 1970s. Next she found a metal object about the size of a small teapot with eight holes in different sizes and a handle. She held it up to show Misha.

‘Look at this,’ Harper said. ‘I think it’s from the 1950s. Guess what it is.’

‘It looks like a cross between an old telephone and my dad’s salami maker,’ replied Misha.

‘It’s a pencil sharpener.’

‘No way, I love it. Harper, do you think we’re nerds?’

‘Mish, we’re definitely nerds.’

‘Good, that’s what I thought.’

They were about to pack up at the end of lunch when Misha gasped.

‘Harps, didn’t you say Lamb?’ She turned a large, bulging schoolbook around to show Harper the front cover.

My Hero, by Francis Lamb.

Harper took it. Even though Francis Lamb wasn’t on her family tree, and she wasn’t on his, he was technically related to her. He’d be about the same age as Liz and Larry. Inside were photos, letters and his neat handwriting telling the story of his hero: his great-great-aunt Mae Lamb.

Harper wanted to read it there and then, but she hugged it instead.

That afternoon, Mr Kumar made them do a class clear-out. It was funny how long ago the things from the beginning of the year felt now.

‘Come to mine for dinner and a sleepover?’ said Cleo.

Harper hesitated. She wanted to take Francis Lamb’s schoolbook home and read it cover to cover.

‘It’s been so long since Mum said I could have you over,’ Cleo continued. ‘And I’ve got something I want to tell you as well.’

The book could wait.

Cleo had said she wouldn’t tell Harper what the thing was until they got back to her place, but she lasted five minutes out of the school gates.

She was beaming. ‘We don’t have to sell our house after all.’

‘What?’

‘Remember how my dad lost his job in lockdown? Well, he got something at Hursts so now everything is fine and we don’t have to move!’

‘Hursts? Isn’t that Corey’s dad’s company?’

Cleo rolled her eyes. ‘Yes! That’s why I had to be nice to him all year. Please don’t hate me.’

Harper started to laugh. ‘Cleo! I thought you actually liked that toad. Why didn’t you just tell me?’

‘I was going to! But I didn’t think I could do it if you knew. The whole thing with the job for my dad dragged on and on and on because of lockdown. And I ended up having to be nice to him for ages!…What? Why are you laughing so much?’

‘It’s just funny. And a relief. It really bugged me!’

‘I know. You really don’t like him, do you?’

‘I really don’t.’

‘Yeah. I feel a bit sorry for him.’

‘Why? He’s mean.’

‘I know. One minute he’s nice, the next he’s a pig. I think he has no idea who to be.’

‘Did Ro know about your dad’s job? Is that why he was being nice to Corey too?’

‘No, that was Ro’s own idea. I think he didn’t want his last year at Riverlark to be about fighting with Corey. He told me the truce was political.’

Harper smiled. ‘That sounds like Ro.’

‘Let’s get ice cream, my shout,’ said Cleo.

‘Okay, but I still can’t believe you brought Corey to my party.’

‘I know. Double scoop.’