‘What on earth is going on?’ asked Tony the following evening as he stepped over the pile of bin bags that I’d put in the hallway.

‘Stuff for the charity shop,’ I said. ‘I’ve been doing a clear out. You should do the same since you have loads of stuff you don’t need.’

It was only a start but the idea had come to me in maths that afternoon. I’d been racking my brains to try and come up with some way that I could start my good works and it came to me as Mr Hall was droning on about some boring maths equation. I could give away all the stuff I don’t use to charity. That was it. Obvious!

I raced home to get started and once I’d begun, it seemed that just about everything I had wasn’t really needed. Mum would be delighted as I have the reputation as the hoarder of the family. Usually I can’t bear to let anything go. But not today. I’d pulled out everything from the top of my wardrobe, from my chests of drawers, under my bed. There was all sorts or rubbish stored away in boxes and bags: all my Barbies, My Little Pony dolls, my princess doll, teddy bears, fluffy rabbits, DVDs, CDs, books, bits of jewellery, clothes I’d only worn once. Shameful, I told myself as I hurled it all into bags. It’s about time I did this.

Tony had a peek in one of the bags. ‘But there are loads of good CDs in here. Surely you’re not giving these away?’

‘Oh yes I am. I don’t need them. I have too many things.’

‘Are you on drugs?’ asked Tony as he continued to sift through the CDs I was chucking out. ‘You never give anything away and these are all your favourite CDs. And – I bought you this one last Christmas and . . . here’s the one Lucy got you. Hey, you can’t get rid of these. They were presents.’

‘I don’t need them. I don’t need most of the things I have. From now on, I’m going to live a much simpler life.’

Tony looked at me as if I had lost my mind. ‘Excuse me, but you are Nesta Williams, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘Or have you been possessed by an alien who’s eaten your brain?’

Mum came in the front door and, like Tony had done, almost tripped over the bags.

‘What’s all this?’ she asked as she took her jacket off and put her keys on the hall table.

‘Nesta’s giving away all her worldly goods and going to be a nun,’ said Tony. ‘But can I keep the CDs? She won’t need them in the nunnery and she has a few I haven’t got.’

‘No way,’ I said. ‘They’re not for you. They’re for the needy.’

‘Don’t be mad. The charity shops will sell them for ten pence each. Tell you what. I’ll give you a fiver for all of them and you can give that to the charity of your choice.’

‘What? Er . . . OK, as long as I can still listen to them when I want.’

Tony rolled his eyes and Mum started having a root through the bags. She didn’t look very happy with what she found in there. She picked out a jumper that she bought me a few months ago. ‘Why are you getting rid of this? It’s almost new.’ She continued sifting and saw that I had put the contents of most of my wardrobe in. ‘Nesta, take this stuff back to your room this instant. This is ridiculous. You’re giving all your clothes away. What are you going to wear?’

‘Sackcloth and ashes,’ said Tony. ‘Our Nesta’s seen the light and has become a freaking saint.’

‘Go on, laugh. I might have expected that from you,’ I said. ‘When have you ever done anything for anyone else?’

‘Now enough of that, Nesta,’ said Mum. ‘Haven’t you ever heard the expression “charity begins at home” and you having a go at your brother isn’t very charitable.’

Tony stuck his tongue out at me from behind Mum’s back so I made a rude hand sign back at him.

‘And that certainly isn’t very nice,’ said Mum.

‘But he started it. . .’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, both of you, grow up.’

‘I was only trying to do something good,’ I said, ‘and it’s taken me ages to get all this bagged up.’

‘Too bad,’ said Mum. ‘There are some almost new things in these bags and you’re not giving them away until we’ve been through it all together so that I can see what you want to get rid of. Now, tidy up this mess before your dad gets home and take all these bags back to your room.’

Tony made a smug face at me and luckily this time Mum saw him.

‘And you can help her, Tony.’

‘But . . .’ he started.

‘NOW!’ said Mum.

At supper that night, I tried out my next good idea to help the poor by suggesting to my family that we cut down on our grocery bills and donate money spent on unnecessary items and treats to charity. It didn’t go down too well.

‘Get lost, Nesta. If you want to go without then you can, but don’t bring in the rest of us,’ said Tony.

‘Yeah, but I read that five pounds could feed a child for a whole month in some countries.’

Tony rolled his eyes and helped himself to some ice cream.

‘Like that ice cream,’ I said. ‘Do you really need it?’

‘Muuuum,’ groaned Tony. ‘Tell her to get off my case will you?’

‘Nesta,’ Mum started. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little excessive?’

‘A little excessive?’ said Tony. ‘Understatement!’

‘Go on then stuff your face. Go on. Ignore all the millions of starving people . . .’

Tony got up from the table and went to the door taking the ice cream with him. ‘I’m not sitting here listening to this . . .’

‘Why? The truth makes you uncomfortable does it?’

‘Nesta, lose the Mother Teresa routine or go and live somewhere else,’ said Tony. ‘Get real. First, you go on at me about not giving all my stuff away and now I can’t eat in peace. Trying to make me feel bad, telling me what everything cost and what could be done with the money. What do you want me to do? Starve? Then will you be happy?’

‘No. Not starve, but maybe we don’t need to consume as much as we do. We’re a society of consumers. That’s why there’s the imbalance . . .’

Tony sighed heavily. ‘What is with you? Up until last week you were Queen of the Consumers and proud of it. In fact if I remember rightly, your motto was “when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping”. You weren’t exactly thinking of the poor and hungry when you bought those silver snakeskin heels or that little top from Morgan were you? And now, just because some boy you fancy collects for charity, you think you have to do the same, no doubt so that you can impress him next time you see him.’

‘That is soooo not true. And I don’t fancy him!’

‘Who?’

‘William Lewis.’

‘Ah,’ smirked Tony, ‘but you knew exactly who I was talking about, didn’t you?’

Mum and Dad didn’t say anything. They just looked at each other and Mum raised an eyebrow.

Sometimes I hate Tony. Now Mum and Dad think I’m only worried about the state of the world because of some boy. Like I don’t have a mind of my own.

‘Are you going to finish that?’ asked Mum, looking at the bowl of ice cream she’d put out for me.

I dipped my spoon in. Butter pecan. It did taste good. And it wasn’t exactly as though I could put a tub of ice cream in an envelope and post it to a poor country. Maybe I’ll have to think of another way of donating money, I thought as I finished the bowl. It didn’t seem that it was going to come out of the housekeeping.

After school the next day, I took the one bag of stuff that Mum was allowing me to give away up to Muswell Hill. It was a lovely evening and after all the rain and chilly winds we’d had recently, at last I could feel spring in the air. I stood by the zebra crossing and wondered which charity shop to give it to: the one for cats, for cancer, for old people or for the hungry in Africa? Oh God. It’s impossible to make a decision like that. I put my bag on the pavement and tried to make up my mind which was going to be my charity.

Maybe I could persuade Izzie, Lucy and TJ to give some of their old things away too, then we could divide our stuff between them. Yes, that would solve the problem and nobody would get left out. I popped into Sainsbury’s and asked if I could have a couple of carrier bags, then sat on the kerb and sorted my things into two bags.

Unfortunately a group of lads passed by as I was dividing my stuff up.

‘You look kind of young to be a bag lady,’ one of them called over. ‘Come with us and we’ll give you a good meal and somewhere warm to sleep!’

‘Yes. We’ve got a big fat sausage and a bed for you,’ called another as his mates sniggered behind him.

Sad, I thought as I ignored them and continued dividing my clothes up. Some boys really don’t have a clue. As if I’m going to respond to a chat-up line as stupid as that. We’ve got a big fat sausage for you? Duh. How pathetic can you get?

When I’d finished sorting, I took one of the bags to the nearest charity shop and gave it to the lady behind the counter.

She gave me a really sweet smile. ‘Thanks so much dear,’ she said. ‘We do appreciate it.’

I left feeling really good and walked out to the Broadway where there were the usual posse of collectors hovering outside the shops by the zebra crossing. I found my purse and instead of trying to avoid eye contact as I usually do, I walked up to them and gave them some spare change. Outside Ryman’s, I gave fifty pence to a man who was collecting for the disabled. And by Marks and Spencer, I put the last of my change into a homeless man’s cap. By the time I had reached the bank at the roundabout where I was meeting Izzie, TJ and Lucy, I was beginning to feel positively saintly as everyone I gave money to beamed at me as though I was the only person who had donated anything that day.

‘Hey guys,’ I said to the girls who were already waiting for me.

‘Why are you carrying your charity shop stuff?’ asked TJ. ‘I thought you were up here giving it away.’

‘I gave half of it away,’ I explained then quickly asked if they would have a clear out too so that all the shops would get something.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea,’ said Izzie. ‘Plus all the books on Feng Shui say that it’s really good to clear out any clutter.’

‘But you have to decide where to take it,’ I said.

‘All of them need stuff,’ said Lucy.

‘Yeah. And that’s the problem,’ I said. ‘I need to decide which is my charily. And seeing as I intend to be a celebrity when I grow up, it’s probably a good idea to decide it now . . .’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Lucy. ‘What’s being a celebrity got to do with it?’

‘Obvious,’ I said. ‘You must have seen celebs when they’re on TV raising money. It’s never a general thing, like, “Oh just give the money to whoever needs it.” Oh no, they all seem to have a particular cause in mind.’

‘Like Bob Geldof with Band Aid,’ said TJ. ‘That was after he saw a programme about the plight of Ethiopia.’

‘Yeah, that was brilliant,’ said Izzie and put her hand on her heart. ‘Sir Bob. Respect.’

‘Yeah. See. He knew what his cause was. And maybe that’s part of growing up,’ I said. ‘Part of discovering who you are. Just as you are identified by the car you drive, the clothes you wear, the drink you drink, you ought to have your own personal charity as well.’

‘There’s an article about Star Axford in my last Vogue,’ said Lucy.

‘God, I love her,’ said Izzie. ‘She’s so beautiful. And so glamorous. And her dad is Zac Axford.’

‘Who’s he?’ I asked.

‘Zac Axford? Big rock and roller. He was huge in the Eighties. My dad has all his old albums. The family are mega loaded. They always appear on those England’s richest people lists that are sometimes in magazines. Star’s mum was a model too. The whole family sounds fab!’

‘So what has this got to do with charity?’ I asked.

‘Apparently Star gives away ten percent of her earnings to charities,’ said Lucy.

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘See, all the cool celebs do it.’

Izzie rolled her eyes. ‘But you make it sound like having the right handbag or trainers,’ she said. ‘Like a designer charity. The latest accessory to make you look good.’

As usual my good intentions are being taken the wrong way, I thought.

‘No. I didn’t mean it like that,’ I objected. ‘Just I want to . . . oh never mind. I just think it’s brilliant giving to charity. Makes you feel good.’

‘So does a muffin and a hot chocolate,’ said Lucy ‘Let’s go to Costa. I’m starving.’

‘Yeah,’ chorused Izzie and TJ.

‘Oh . . . but I’ve no money left,’ I said as I realised that I’d given all my pocket money away.

Izzie nudged Lucy. ‘Looks like we have our own charity case here. Don’t worry. We’ll pay for you.’

‘You don’t need to do that,’ I said.

‘Why? Too proud to accept our donation?’ teased Lucy. ‘As you said, it’s great to give and sometimes being on the receiving end can be hard. Humbling.’

‘Yes, but no, but . . .?’

‘Yeah,’ said TJ. ‘We can’t have something and let you just sit there and watch. No, come on, we’ll club together.’

‘No, I meant you don’t need to do that, because maybe you should give the money for the hot chocolate to charity like I did,’ I said. ‘You don’t really need it and the few pounds you’d spend in the café, you could give to a good cause.’

TJ, Lucy and Izzie looked at each other and then at me.

‘Oh hell.’ Lucy sighed. ‘I’m confused now. I feel bad. I do want a hot chocolate. I was looking forward to it but I also think I ought to give my money away like you did, Nesta and I’ll feel like I’m selfish or something if I don’t. Oh stinkbombs . . . Why did you have to go and bring all this up? It’s made things really complicated.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said TJ. ‘Now I feel like I’m a bad person too. I feel rotten because I don’t want to give my pocket money away. I don’t get much and to tell the truth, if I gave what I do have away, I’d only be doing it because now I feel guilty and I don’t want you to think badly of me.’

‘Hhm,’ said Izzie. ‘Something’s weird about this. The vibe isn’t right any more and I’m with TJ, Nesta, I feel guilty too. We all do, so we wouldn’t be able to enjoy getting a hot chocolate any more. You know what, guys? Suddenly I don’t feel like hanging out. I think I’ll go home. Think about it. See you all later.’ And off she went towards the bus stop.

‘Me too,’ said TJ. ‘I think I’ll go and take Mojo for a walk.’ And she went to join Izzie.

I turned to look at Lucy who shifted about on her feet and stared at the pavement.

‘Me too,’ said Lucy. ‘Sorry, Nesta. Dunno why, but suddenly I feel really depressed.’ She dug her hand into her jeans pocket and handed me two pounds. ‘Here. That’s all I have. Give it to whatever cause you want. Catch you later.’

Off she went, and I could tell by the way she hunched her shoulders as she walked away that she was fed up.

And so I was left standing on my own and the rosy glow I’d experienced earlier had completely disappeared. I give up, I thought. Do nothing and everyone thinks I don’t care. Do what I can and everyone gets depressed and hates me. I can’t win. I don’t know how Sir Bob Geldof did it when he got all those pop stars to give their time and money. He must have been very persuasive or put it differently as I’m sure no one had a go at him for making them feel guilty. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go and have a cappuccino. Oops. Can’t. No pocket money left and it would be wrong to use Lucy’s money. As I watched Izzie and TJ get on the bus that would take them towards Finchley, I felt totally confused. Trying to do good is clearly not as easy as it first appears, I thought as I walked back up the Broadway and gave Lucy’s coins to the man collecting for the disabled. He beamed a thank you back at me but this time, it didn’t make me feel so good.