It’s a real laugh in the van on the way back, except for Pari, Stella and Kez giggling and elbowing me whenever Tomek speaks!

Bubbe’s obviously going to drop me home first. I wish I could stay in the van and drop Pari and Tomek off too.

‘The sign’s gone!’ Kez says as we draw up by the tree.

‘What sign?’ Tomek asks.

‘Oh! Long story . . . We had a snake turn up in our kitchen,’ I say.

‘OK!’ Tomek laughs. ‘It does sound like you’re going to have to tell me about that one!’

Dad comes out to meet me and waves Bubbe and Kez off.

‘She’s got a vanful of girls!’ Dad laughs, then he spots Tomek. ‘But who’s that?’

‘Just a friend!’ I say.

‘I’ve heard that one before! Is Dara feeling better now? When she told us where you were, we all wanted to drive her and Kez up there, but she was having none of it. Insisted on it being just her and Kez.’

‘She’s fine, but she’s tired now so she’s going home, and Maurice is dropping them all back.’

‘Lucky Maurice!’ Dad jokes.

‘What happened with the snake sign?’ I ask.

‘Oh yes.’ Dad wraps his arm around my shoulders. ‘Krish’s friend Eddie came over with something for you while you were out! He seemed to think you might want to keep it.’

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘A snakeskin!’

‘Eddie said it shed its skin and about half an hour later there was a knock on the door and someone claimed it. They had a photo of it and everything! The owners had moved house and it got out in the move. They couldn’t believe it was still alive! And we were all so afraid of it!’ Dad smiles.

‘I wasn’t!

I feel different walking back into our house. The front garden looks so pretty covered in snow . . . you can’t see all the mud from knocking down the high wall. But when I get inside, the place is still like a building site.

‘What’s going on in this house?’

‘It’s chaos. We’ve had a burst pipe. The hallway floor’s going to have to come up. Please sleep in Mira’s room! I don’t want your eczema to get worse,’ Dad explains. ‘Come on; let’s get you into the warm.’ He helps me navigate around the dustsheets and a toolbox. I suddenly feel a bit shaky. ‘Cup of tea? Mum’s made soup.’

‘I think I’ll have a bath,’ I say.

‘Not so fast! We want the whole truth and nothing but the truth! Where did that come from?’ Dad asks as I place the Banner Bag on the table.

‘It’s all there!’ I say, tapping the iPad. ‘Where is Mum?’

‘On her way back from the Bravermans’. You’re going to have some questions to answer! But come on, get that coat off. I lit the fire for you.’

I stand in front of the fireplace feeling the heat slowly warm me through.

When Mum comes home she won’t let me go. She keeps hanging on to me. She doesn’t even want to leave me on my own while I wait for the bath to run. My feet itch and burn – like they were frozen before and now they’re thawing out.

‘You’ll all have chilblains,’ Mum says, fluffing up the bubbles of the bath. ‘I don’t know what this’ll do for your eczema.’

I haven’t been sratching my arm for a while. In fact I haven’t even thought about it. I hold my arms out to check and the cracked skin’s gone, with just a faint red shadow to show that the eczema was ever there.

‘That latest remedy worked then,’ Mum says, and kisses the crooks of my arms.

‘Mum!’ I laugh. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just glad to have you home safe and sound!’ Mum sighs and sits on the toilet as if I’m going to get in the bath with her sitting there.

‘Can I have some privacy now?’

She laughs and leaves, closing the bathroom door.

The house is so dusty that after my bath I go into Mira’s room, close the door and snuggle up on her bed. I take out Nana’s chime and ring it just once . . .

Old bare feet are walking in the snow in a long trail of people. Old, old feet, black feet, white feet, brown feet. When they lift their heels out of the snow, they’re all cracked and sore and pink from the cold.

‘Follow the chime, Laila.’ I hear a voice and follow the feet and the sound of an ankle bracelet jingling.

‘Is that you, Nana Josie?’ I call, but the feet keep walking, the chime keeps ringing.

Someone’s running behind me, panting, out of breath. ‘Wait for me!’

I know his voice but all I can see is feet in the snow.

The chime rings.

‘Simon, time to go!’ Nana Josie’s voice calls.

I follow, but the faster I walk, the further they are away from me, walking into the sun.

The chime rings in my hand, louder and louder . . .

I’m still holding it when I wake up. I feel all warm inside like you do when you fall asleep in the sun and wake up feeling like the heat has seeped into your skin. I hardly ever dream. It’s Mira who has those dreams that she thinks really mean something, not me.

I walk down the stairs and there’s a builder already working in the hallway.

‘Sorry!’ I say, squeezing past him and grabbing my blazer. No time for breakfast. I’m going to be in so much trouble if I’m late for school again.

The sun’s so bright as I walk out of the door I can hardly see the path.

The snow’s packed down from all the footprints. The path is icy, so I step on to the grass of the park instead and run. I love these bright frosty mornings when your shoes scrunch on the ice, but I’m happy I’m not barefoot today like Janu is. It must be so cold in New York.

I slow as I approach the school gates. Mrs Latif is waiting for me with . . . Kez, Pari and . . . what’s Bubbe doing there?

Mrs Latif walks towards me.

‘Are you better?’ I ask her.

‘I’m not ill! Though I have had a very sickly few weeks! Haven’t you noticed my bump?’ I look down at her tummy and I can see that her slim shape has changed. Mrs Latif is beaming with happiness.

‘Congratulations . . . Oh, I forgot to give you your Malala book back for your bookshelf!’ I say.

Mrs Latif shakes her head. ‘No, Laila, I’ll get another copy when he or she is old enough. Think of it as a congratulations present . . . Come on, let’s go and see Mrs Kaur – I think she’s got a few words she wants to say to you.’

‘Am I in trouble? Sorry, but—’

‘Save it for the Head!’ Mrs Latif smiles at me, takes Bubbe’s arm and leads the way into school.

Kez holds my hand on one side and Pari’s on the other and we walk through the gates together. Rebecca, Stella, Carlos, Selina, Carmel, Milena, Nathan and some of the people from Kez’s tutor group who came to the vigil are lined up outside our Head’s office. Mrs Latif knocks on the door and Mrs Kaur answers.

‘It was my idea!’ I blurt out.

‘I’ve heard all about it!’ Mrs Kaur smiles at Bubbe and motions for us all to cram into her office. ‘Now! Let me shake your hand, Laila Levenson,’ Mrs Kaur says when we’ve all finally managed to fit in.

I’ve never actually spoken to our Head Teacher before. I thought she would be scary, but she looks really normal and friendly.

‘Don’t look so worried, Laila! I have never had a group of Year Sevens make a statement I’m more proud of. You are an absolute credit to this school. I’m so happy Mrs Braverman here has gone out of her way to come in and tell me what you young people have done. With all of your permission I would like to bring this to the attention of the media.’

Bubbe turns around and beams at us all. She looks thin and tired but her eyes are sparkling with happiness, like they did when she listened to Kez speak on her bat mitzvah day.

Most of the rest of the morning we spend in Mrs Kaur’s office being interviewed by local papers and even for a TV news report.

‘Let’s just have a small group shot!’ the reporter says.

Mrs Latif, Mrs Kaur, Bubbe, Kez, Pari, Carlos, Selina and Rebecca get in the photo, but Stella hangs back.

Mrs Latif calls her over. ‘Come on, Stella! We’re all in this together.’

The best thing about this photo is something that no one else would really get, except maybe Pari and me and Mrs Latif. On the first day of school I never would have thought that Stella, Pari and me would be the closest of anyone in our tutor group. I would never have put that on Mrs Latif’s map.

The end-of-school bell goes and everyone’s getting out of their seats. Mrs Latif and Mr Rivera come over and chat to me a bit more about the vigil. Mrs Latif wants to know if we could get everyone who was involved from school together and do an assembly about it. Bubbe’s agreed to come in and talk too.

‘I’ll help you put something together,’ Mrs Latif says.

‘We should play the “underground” music you made,’ Mr Rivera suggests.

‘And your film of the vigil,’ Mrs Latif adds.

‘Yes, and I can bring in my Nana Josie’s banner to show everyone,’ I say.

They seem to be actually really excited about all this.

‘I’ll talk to the others about it,’ I tell them, and turn around to see what Stella and Pari think. But they’ve gone.

I wait at the school gates but I can’t see anyone. I don’t know why, but I feel a bit flat. What I would really love now is for all my friends to be able to come back to mine and sit on my bed, close the door and for us to just talk on our own about everything that’s happened. It doesn’t look like anyone’s going to show now. Maybe Pari and Stella are already on the underground. I give up waiting by the Unfriendship Bench and go home.

As I cross the road there’s a crowd outside our house. Kez and her mum and dad and Pari and her mum are all standing on the pavement. Someone’s planted a small tree and some bright red and white flowers either side of the new S-shaped path up to our front door. The garden looks really good. And then the door opens and Mum’s standing there and I realize that since I left this morning our house has a got a new door that’s been painted turquoise.

Dad’s standing off the sloped path near the front door, holding his iPhone up and recording.

‘Mind the new planting!’ Mum says, steering Dad away from treading on a climber with little yellow star-shaped flowers.

‘What is that plant?’ Hannah asks.

‘Winter-flowering jasmine. Janu’s choice!’ Mum says.

‘What’s going on, Laila?’ Dad asks.

‘I dunno! I haven’t got a clue!’ I look to Kez and Pari for an answer.

‘You first!’ Kez says, so I walk up the path to the front door.

Mum and Dad go halfway up the stairs and watch.

‘Are you videoing all this? Mira and Krish want to see,’ Mum says.

‘Got it!’ Dad gives a thumbs up.

‘Me too!’ Maurice calls, holding his phone in the air.

I’m in the doorway now and turning around to look back. Kez is at the bottom of the path.

‘You going to invite us in, or what? It’s steep but do-able.’ She laughs and steers her way slowly up the slope.

Dad gestures to the side of the house that someone’s built a little cover over.

‘You can come round anytime now. Whether we’re in or not!’ Dad says as Kez steers Vimana up the path and parks. I feel myself tense, but Dad doesn’t attempt to help her.

She looks up at Dad filming and smiles, but then leans in close to me and takes my arm. ‘I’ve so missed coming here with you.’

I must have been so caught up in the vigil not to see that maybe fixing the wall and the ‘flood’ isn’t all that’s been happening here.

‘Don’t leave our guests standing on the doorstep!’ Dad jokes, as Pari and her mum walk through the door together.

‘Did you know about this, Pari?’ I ask.

‘I might have done!’

I look to Bubbe and Maurice and Hannah for an answer.

‘It was Janu’s idea!’ Hannah says. ‘When you told him how much you wanted Kez to be able to come here and how it was affecting you both.’

‘Anyway, we’ve wanted some more domestic projects in our portfolio. To show people what’s possible . . . so this was perfect timing,’ Maurice adds.

I look up the stairs at Mum and Dad. That weekend when they said . . .

‘Were you here that weekend I went to stay with Kez . . . ?’ I look at Bubbe holding the little bonsai tree and stop myself saying any more.

‘To tell the truth, none of us were very far away that weekend!’ Hannah says, resting her arm on Bubbe’s back. ‘But it really is Janu you’ve got to thank for all this.’

Bubbe takes my arm and gives me the bonsai tree.

‘A little thank you from our family!’ she whispers, and gives me her don’t-argue-with-me look.

‘Why don’t you girls go through to Laila’s new bedroom?’ Dad asks, pointing to the living room.

I feel for the step and nearly fall flat on my face trying to stop myself from dropping Bubbe’s present.

‘Steady! It’s supposed to bring you balance!’ Bubbe says, laughing.

‘Don’t make me laugh any more, Bubbe. I need the bathroom! Excuse me, Laila.’

I move aside as Kez follows the strip of grip wall like she has all round her flat. The floor’s the same as in her house too, with little circles in it to stop you slipping. This is . . . nothing like our front room.

‘Where’s the living room gone?’ I ask.

‘We’ve moved the furniture upstairs. We’re going to make Mira’s old room into the living room!’ Mum smiles. ‘I’ve always liked that view on to the back garden!’

Kez walks into a pod that’s been added like a little cube inside the room, just like the one at hers.

Hannah and Maurice grin at me.

‘Right then!’ Mum says ‘Let’s leave them to it. Come on through to the kitchen. I’ve made some tea. There are a few drinks and snacks on the table in your new room.’ Mum points to a little low table in the window in front of my perch.

‘You brought it down from the landing!’

Mum grins at me and closes my new bedroom door.

Pari goes over to my perch and sits down. She pats the cushion next to me. Then she holds up the little velvet one where she knows I keep my chime and shakes it in the air.

‘You are so lucky!’ she says, as I place the plant on the mantelpiece next to Nana Josie’s little box, the one with the bonsai tree painted on it. Mum must have been going through my things. The Protest Book isn’t a secret any more because it’s sitting on the mantelpiece. Mum’s put the statue of Shiva that Janu brought us right in the middle. It looks good there, and next to it is the snakeskin. I bet that was Dad’s idea. My Banner Bag’s tucked neatly on the tiles by the fireplace.

I sit down next to Pari. I’m just trying to get my head around the fact that this is going to be my room. It’s been decorated and I’ve even got a new bed.

‘I like that wall colour!’ Pari says. ‘Isn’t that the colour you used to paint the banners? You could put the one from the vigil in here.’

I could, but I already know exactly which banner is going up on that wall. Maybe one day Mira will paint a banner of me, Kez and Pari on a march.

The time goes so fast as we plan out how I’m going to have my room. Kez leaves first, and me and Pari sit and chat about the day of the vigil and what we’ll say if we have to do an assembly.

There’s a knock at the door.

‘Leyla needs to go now!’ Mum says, as she peers around the door and opens it wider.

Pari looks at her mum, who is standing in the doorway, busy shaking her head at Dad.

‘No, no, Leyla. It’s no bother at all,’ Dad’s insisting. ‘Of course I can drop you home.’

Leyla starts speaking to Pari. The only word I can understand is ‘sleepover’. It seems like Pari’s not sure what to do. She keeps looking at her mum, then back into the room at me. Then she runs at her mum and hugs her tight.

‘No, no. You girls stay here, having fun.’

‘My first ever sleepover!’ Pari laughs like she can’t believe this is happening.

‘You can’t possibly go home on the tube, Leyla, with this heavy cooking pot!’

‘I thought I’d use it all the time, but turns out it’s just taking space up in the kitchen,’ Mum lies.

‘If you are sure you won’t need . . . I can show you many dishes, Uma: Iraqi Shourba, lentils Biryani, Chelefry – like a stew – Kibbe Batata.’ Leyla pats Dad on the arm. ‘And for you, some lamb, Makloba . . . So many dishes! We’ll go to Saturday market together get fresh ingredients and I show you how to cook, OK?’

‘Stop, Leyla, you’re making me hungry!’ Dad laughs.

Pari looks towards me and I hardly dare meet her eyes in case she tells the truth. Mum cooks with that pot nearly every day. Pari knows that. She tilts her head slightly to the side and lowers her chin, and without saying a thing, I know we’re thinking the same thing.

Is it always wrong to lie?

Is it always right to tell the truth?

She won’t tell her mum that we use it all the time, and we won’t ever talk about it again.

Pari kisses her mum and says something to her in Arabic. She looks really worried about her mum leaving.

‘No, no, I am sleeping now. I’ll be fine,’ Leyla says.

It finally dawns on me that it’s Pari who’s worrying about her mum being on her own and not the other way round.

‘By the way, Laila! Not to place bonsai here,’ Leyla says, pointing to the plant on the mantelpiece as she leaves. ‘It must go in light place. Keep same temperature, not cold from window, so it will grow well.’

When Leyla’s gone Pari helps me hang Nana Josie’s banner on the wall above my bed.

‘This is beautiful,’ Pari says, lying on my bed staring up at the banner. ‘Now tell me about this mystery boy . . . Tomek!’

It’s not until I’m on my own, sitting on my perch looking around my new bedroom, that any of this starts to sink in. I open my laptop and email Janu.

Dear Janu,

I hope you’re having a good time in New York with Priya.

I saw that your fundraising’s going well with that concert.

Sorry I haven’t been in touch for a few days, but I just want to say thank you for what you did for me and Kez. It’s amazing. I’m sitting in my new room now. Kez and Pari have just been here. I can’t believe that I didn’t guess that all this was going on.

I did this vigil for Bubbe. I’m attaching the link so you can see what it was all about. Maybe Dad was right about the barefoot thing catching on!

As you can see, Tomek came too and he asked how you are. I’ve been thinking that even though I’ll keep my promise to you and not tell anyone here what happened that day on the tube, I’ll never forget it. When we were doing the vigil I was thinking of you and so was Tomek. We talked about it and we both think you were wrong to stay quiet about what they did to you. I think it’s a bit why I had to do something. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I did the vigil for you too.

Love

Laila X