I’m lying on Mira’s bed reading the Malala book when Mira finally calls.

Mira: Hi, Laila! Sorry I missed your call. Everything all right at home?

Me: Yeah, I suppose. I’m grounded – did Mum tell you?

Mira: Ah yes, we had a first family phone conference about that! What made me laugh was Mum going on about your orange umbrella, as if that was evidence of something!

Me: Yeah, I don’t know why she keeps going on about that. I only went for a walk, but she doesn’t believe me.

Mira: Should she? Who did you walk with? There’s no one you want to tell me about?

Me: No.

Mira: So, how are things with you and Kez now?

Me: Oh fine. She’s got all her bat mitzvah stuff to do. I haven’t seen much of her. How’s your college? Have you finished the painting of me? . . . What are you laughing at?

Mira: You never used to talk to me like this.

Me: Like what?

Mira: I don’t know really.

Me: Is the painting you’re doing of me a baby painting? Let me guess . . . baby me on the day I was born?

Mira: You’ll have to wait and see! Tell me something else.

Me: Pari – this girl in my tutor group’s coming over next Friday.

Mira: That’s good. What’s she like?

Me: Nice, I think! I don’t really know her yet. I’d better go actually – I’ve got loads of homework.

I hear this strangled sort of sound on the other end of the line.

Me: Are you OK?

Mira: Please don’t go, Laila. Mum says you’re redecorating my room turquoise.

Me: No! That’s what she thinks . . . but I’m not.

Mira: You should move in, you know. It’s sweet you keeping it for me, but it’s mad sleeping out on the landing . . .

I can hear tears in Mira’s voice. For the first time ever I feel like she actually needs to talk to me.

Me: What’s it like in Glasgow?

Mira: I love the city, people are really friendly, but the course is hard, though I’m learning loads . . . I just didn’t expect to miss you all this much, and with Jidé being away too . . .

Me: Is he doing all right?

Mira: Yes. I managed to skype him the other day. He thinks he might go and work there when he’s qualified. He says there’s so much for him to do.

Me: You would really miss him though.

Mira: I would. I miss everyone.

Me: Even Mum and Dad?!

Mira: Even them!

Me: Krish?

Mira: He came to see me at the weekend, so I’ve had my fix of him! I miss you, Lai Lai.

Me: Miss you too, Mimi. Why don’t you come home when Janu comes? For a weekend?

Mira: I can’t, Laila.

Mira blows her nose really noisily.

Mira: I think this is what homesick feels like!

Mira would never believe it if she could see me crying too. I’m glad I’m in her room with the door closed, because if Mum or Dad came upstairs now they would definitely try and talk things through and that’s the last thing I need. Even though I’m at home all the time, I think I might be homesick too – for how it used to be.

Before I go to sleep I ring Nana’s chime loads of times. The sound relaxed me before but it doesn’t work this time, so I open the Malala book. How could anyone shoot a little girl just because she wanted to learn something?

Mum peeps around the door.

‘It’s so late, Laila! Get some sleep now.’

I lie on Mira’s bed for a while and listen to Mum and Dad moving around in their loft bedroom. When they’re quiet I sneak out to the landing. Even with the new cream, my arms are so itchy, but there’s no way I’m wearing the gloves Mum’s trying to make me wear at night to stop me scratching in my sleep.

I stare at Mira’s painting of a woman in the mist walking with her dog by the sea. I like the way she’s made everything look floaty like a dream.

‘Laila! What on earth are you doing standing out here? It’s the middle of the night! Laila, are you awake?’ Mum takes me by the shoulders, leads me to Mira’s room and stands over me till I get into the bed. I stay there but I can’t sleep for the rest of the night.

‘What was going on with you last night, Laila?’ Dad asks as he hands me my tea at breakfast. ‘I don’t know if I can deal with another sleepwalker in this house. It was bad enough with Krish. If I’d known moving rooms would unsettle you so much I never would have dismantled your old high bed. You could have stayed put. We were going to let Mira decide how she wants to arrange that room, but just tell us if you need to move back in. We can always buy you a new bed . . . a low bed, if you want.’

I’m only half listening because I’m looking up a website about Malala.

Dad raises his voice. ‘Laila, please don’t ignore me . . .’

‘I’m not moving back. Sorry, Dad. I don’t know why, but I sleep better on the landing.’ I manage to get the words out through my yawn.

‘Seems like it!’ Dad shakes his head.