On Tuesday evening Pari’s mum telephones. I sit so close to Mum as she talks to her that I don’t even have to guess the other side of the conversation.

‘No problem at all. Pari’s always very welcome. They seem to be becoming such good friends. Doing their homework too.’

Mum’s talking strangely again, like she thinks that Pari’s mum will understand her better if she speaks that way. It sounds weird. I roll my eyes at Mum and she pokes me in the side to make me laugh. I lean into the phone to hear Pari’s mum better.

‘Return this welcome, yes? Saturday afternoon. Stay evening. Bring sleeping bag. I make a special meal for them. No problem.’

Mum agrees, says her goodbyes and hangs up.

‘She sounds lovely! Isn’t it funny that her name’s Leyla?’ Mum says. ‘I’d like to meet her too. I’ll drive you over.’

‘No! Pari’s coming to pick me up. We’ve already sorted it. We’re going on the tube . . . we need to because we’ve got this music composition for homework. Anyway, it’s only a few stops.’

‘What’s the underground got to do with music?’

‘We’re composing something about a tube journey,’ I say.

Mum looks at me a bit suspiciously.

‘What? It’s the truth!’

‘OK then, I can always take you on the underground,’ Mum continues.

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘It’s not that!’

‘Then what? Pari takes the tube home alone every morning and night and she’s all right.’

‘We’ve discussed this before, Laila. She’s used to it and you’re not!’

I shrug. ‘So as she’s coming to pick me up we’ll be fine then, won’t we?’

‘Laila, I’m your mum. I need to know that you’re safe.’

‘I know what this is about. Pari’s mum didn’t come over to ours and check us out before she came here.’

I can feel myself start to boil over again. After all the time it’s taken Pari to trust me enough to invite me to her’s, the last thing I need is Mum deciding I can’t stay. I don’t know why so many conversations with Mum turn into arguments; they never used to when Mira and Krish were around.

During our ‘discussion’, Janu comes in.

‘If anyone has to take me, Janu can!’

‘Laila! Don’t be so rude.’ Mum looks really shocked. ‘Sorry about this, Janu.’

He quietly sits down at the table drinking tea and writing what looks like a letter, but I can’t exactly see because his arm shields the paper. Whatever it is he’s writing, he has to start it over a lot of times. He keeps crumpling up the pages.

‘No! Don’t worry at all, Uma; I’m happy to take her. She did ask me earlier.’ Janu folds the piece of paper over and puts it in his pocket, then collects up the rubbish, scrunches it up and puts that in his pocket too. ‘What day is your sleepover?’

‘Saturday,’ Mum and me both say together.

‘Perfect! I’m going that way anyway with some student friends I met. I’ve been invited to my own sleepover party!’ Janu jokes. Don’t worry, Uma, I’ll drop Laila there and pick her up on Sunday morning.’

Mum looks like she wants to put up an argument but can’t think of a reason to object.

I call Pari and tell her the plan. She asks what I like to eat. I don’t want her mum to go to too much trouble, so I say pizza – I think that’s pretty safe. As we’re talking my feet kick against something on the floor. I peer under the table. There’s a ball of paper. I can’t drag it closer towards me with my foot so I crawl under the table and pick it up.

The front door’s open and Mum and Janu are standing by the wall chatting on the street. I turn my back to them and un-scrunch the paper . . .

Dear Mira,

Sorry we haven’t spoken. I have tried calling you and emailing without any luck, so now I am writing this letter. It feels unnatural to write when I am finally in the same country as you and we’re only a few hours away from each other! I think you know how much I want to see you . . . Over every other reason, I am here to see you . . .

You will never guess . . .

I feel terrible for him. It looks like I’m not the only one to keep secrets. Does he love her? I think I can guess what’s in that little square box that Janu’s brought over for Mira. Poor Janu . . . I wish I hadn’t see that kiss in the hallway between Jidé and Mira.

I go into Mira’s room, close the door and call her. It rings for a while before she picks up.

Me: Hi, Mira.

Mira: Why are you whispering, Laila?

Me: Mira, you’ve got to come home and see Janu. I think he loves—

Mira: Listen, Laila, I can’t come. One day I’ll try to explain. Don’t ask me again. I’m really busy with this exhibition.

Me: Have you heard from Jidé again?

Mira: Yes, he’s . . . Look, Laila, there are things you don’t understand, and one day . . . Well, anyway, I can’t talk about it now, but I can’t come back. I’ve got to go . . . I’ll call you soon . . .

Me: What if he’s going to ask you to—

Mira: I have to go, Laila. Speak soon.

I know when Mira’s crying. I can hear it in her voice. I’m sorry I’ve called and upset her, but I feel like I’m in the middle of something and no one’s thought to tell me what it is – as usual. What would little Lai Lai understand anyway?