Mum had been phoning Zara again and again all afternoon, but she’d switched off her mobile. She didn’t come back till after suppertime, when Mum was going frantic. Zara didn’t even come into the living room. We heard the front door slam and then her footsteps rushing upstairs.

‘Thank God,’ said Mum, and hauled herself out of her armchair to follow her.

I got up too, but Mum shook her head.

‘No, I need to talk to her,’ she said. She swayed very slightly.

‘Mum!’ I rushed to her side.

‘No, I’m OK, truly. I just felt dizzy for a second, that’s all. From relief!’ Mum rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension. Then she wiggled her shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘Right!’ she said, and headed up the stairs.

Rowena and I looked at each other.

‘Zara’s for it now!’ said Rowena.

I hoped Zara wouldn’t tell Mum why she hated Sally. I muted the television and tried to listen. I could only hear the faintest murmur in the bedroom above my head. At least they weren’t shouting.

Mum was gone a long time. Rowena kept pestering me to draw some magic monsters like Sally’s so I did my best. I could be inventive enough inside my head, but the right shapes wouldn’t come out on paper.

‘They look all weird and wobbly,’ said Rowena.

‘They’re supposed to,’ I pretended.

‘But their legs don’t match,’ she said, pointing.

‘I know. They’re called the Leggonewrongs. They can’t walk, so that’s why they fly everywhere,’ I said, quickly giving them rudimentary wings. ‘And then when they land they have to sit like broody hens, though the little light ones sometimes manage to hop.’

‘That’s a bit silly,’ said Rowena. ‘You’re just making it up. Do some proper animals like Sally’s.’

‘I can’t draw like she can,’ I said. ‘You really like her, don’t you, Ro?’

‘She’s absolutely lovely. She’s my best friend.’

‘What about Vivien?’ I asked. She was a rosy-cheeked little girl who wore a plastic Alice band with Mickey Mouse ears. She sat next to Rowena in class and shared her little packet of raisins at break time.

‘Vivien’s my ordinary best friend and Sally’s my big best friend,’ said Rowena.

‘She’s my big best friend too,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to share her.’

‘Why doesn’t Zara like her?’

‘I don’t know,’ I lied.

‘Zara’s silly,’ said Rowena. ‘She still likes us, doesn’t she?’

‘Well, she likes you. She’s maybe cross with me,’ I said.

When Mum came downstairs at last, she looked shattered. Oh God, had Zara told her everything?

‘Where’s Zara?’ Rowena asked.

‘She’s tired so she’s gone to bed,’ said Mum.

‘She wasn’t walking around by herself all this time, was she?’ I asked, my voice wavering.

‘No, no, she went to her friend Julie’s house.’

‘Sally’s our friend, Mum,’ said Rowena. ‘Isn’t she, Frankie?’

‘Is Sally your friend, Frankie?’ Mum asked, looking at me.

Zara had said something. I knew it.

‘Yes, she is. Though actually we didn’t use to be friends at all. More like enemies. Funny, that,’ I said as casually as I could.

I think Mum might have said more, but Rowena was intent on showing her my silly Leggonewrongs. ‘I think they’re meant to be funny. But they’re not as good as Sally’s, are they?’

‘That’s not very tactful,’ Mum told her.

‘Frankie doesn’t mind,’ said Rowena. ‘She thinks so too.’

‘You both sound like paid-up members of the Sally fan club,’ said Mum. ‘Shall I have a go at drawing you some magical creatures, Rowena?’

‘Yes, please!’

Mum sat down between us on the sofa and flexed her fingers several times. Perhaps she was seeing if they were working properly. But then she started sketching confidently on a blank page of Rowena’s drawing book. She drew a whole herd of unicorns galloping along a beach, baby unicorns with fluffy coats and tiny horns prancing beside their mothers.

‘Oh, Mum, they’re wonderful! The best ever!’ said Rowena.

I knew Mum was good at drawing but I was still astonished by her unicorns. ‘They look so real,’ I said. ‘And horses are ever so difficult. I can never make their legs go the right way.’

‘I’ve had plenty of practice. There was a time when almost every child in my class came to school clutching a toy unicorn,’ said Mum. ‘On Friday afternoons I used to draw them on the whiteboard as a treat.’

She sighed. I wondered if she was worrying about a time when she might not be able to draw unicorns or gingerbread men, or plait Rowena’s hair or tighten the nut on my roller skates or show Zara how to use eyeliner so it didn’t smudge.

I leaned against her, and she put her arm round me. I was so thankful that she didn’t seem cross with me. I nestled close, wishing I was as young as Rowena and didn’t know enough to worry about anything.

I don’t think Zara was asleep when I went up to bed, but she lay very still, keeping her breathing slow and steady. I quickly got into my pyjamas and then bent down beside her.

‘Zara?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Zara, what did you say to Mum? You didn’t tell her why Sally and I started being enemies, did you?’

Nothing.

‘Sally feels awful about it now. You’ve got her all wrong, you know. She can be mean sometimes, but she can be so lovely when you get to know her properly,’ I whispered.

Zara gave a contemptuous snort and turned her back on me.

‘Zara, don’t be horrible. I sometimes don’t like your friends, but I don’t act all funny about them. And, look, so what if she likes Sammy? Everyone likes him. She doesn’t try to flirt with him. And I know she was acting a bit daft with Gary Masters at lunchtime yesterday, but that was just showing off in front of Marnie and the others. Zara! Are you listening?’ I said desperately.

‘I can’t help listening to you going on and on about your dear, precious, saintly Sally,’ Zara hissed. ‘Will you just shut up about her? I’m sick of the sound of her name. I never took you for a fool, Frankie – but you’re being so stupid now I’m sick of you too.’

She pulled the duvet over her head and wouldn’t say any more. I got into my own bed, feeling all jangled up inside. I hated it when Zara and I quarrelled, but I wasn’t going to break friends with Sally just to please her. Sally meant everything to me now.

I woke up early the next morning, excited about the skating date. I didn’t know what to wear. I couldn’t wear Sam’s shirt again. In the end I went up into the attic and rummaged through a big bag of Mum’s clothes from ages ago. I found an old jumper, grey with rainbow stripes. It looked OK when I tried it on. One of the cuffs was coming a bit unravelled, but I turned it over a few times and hoped it wouldn’t unravel all the way up to my armpit.

I still had traces of Josh’s biro on my wrist so I gave it another fierce scrub in the shower. Then I went downstairs and laid the table for breakfast and boiled the kettle.

‘Thanks, darling,’ said Mum, coming into the kitchen in her dressing gown.

‘Shall I get started on the toast, Mum?’

‘I think you’d better have porridge – something warm to keep you going while you’re skating,’ she said.

‘You don’t mind me going, do you?’ I asked. ‘It won’t cost anything. Sally says she’s paying for Rowena and me.’

‘No, I’ll give you money from the housekeeping purse. I took out extra for the holidays. Of course I don’t mind you going skating. But you’ll look after Rowena, won’t you? Keep hold of her so she doesn’t fall over.’

‘I might fall over,’ I said, hoping I wouldn’t make too much of a fool of myself.

‘You’ll pick it up in no time – you’re an ace roller skater. You’ll love ice skating. I used to go when I was your age,’ said Mum.

She sounded so wistful that I said, ‘Well, maybe you could still go now if your legs don’t feel too wobbly.’

‘I think that might be tempting fate. One little slip and I could end up breaking a leg, and then where would I be?’

‘It must be so frustrating, having to be so careful all the time.’

‘Sometimes, yes,’ said Mum, smiling weakly. ‘You’re being very grown up and sensitive, sweetheart.’

‘I’m fourteen next month,’ I reminded her.

‘True,’ said Mum.

‘I feel grown up. Almost.’

‘I remember what nearly fourteen feels like.’ Mum stopped measuring porridge oats into the saucepan and gave me a sudden hug. ‘My girl,’ she said.

‘Mum, you like Sally, don’t you?’ I blurted out.

I felt Mum tensing slightly. ‘Yes, I do, but …’

‘But?’ I echoed.

‘But nothing,’ said Mum. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.’

She gave me a kiss on the top of my head. ‘There now. I’d better get on with the porridge. Can you give the others a shout?’

Rowena came scampering downstairs straight away. She looked extra cute in my old Spider-Man pyjamas and a pair of woolly red socks.

‘Look, I can skate already,’ she said, zigzagging her way across the kitchen floor.

‘Very graceful, chickie, but you’ll wear holes in your socks if you’re not careful,’ said Mum.

I called Zara again. She didn’t answer. Eventually Mum yelled up the stairs that the porridge was on the table and Zara’s would be stone cold if she didn’t come down right now.

So she came down in her flowery blue dressing gown, her hair unbrushed and her face pink with sleep. She looked so much younger without any make-up.

‘Oh, Zara, let’s be friends,’ I said, rushing over to her.

She stiffened at first, but then hugged me back. ‘OK, loopy girl. Friends. Now get off me,’ she said, wriggling away.

‘Will you come skating with us too?’ I asked.

‘With Sally? You have to be joking.’

‘But it feels so mean, us going out and leaving you behind.’

‘I’m not a Billy-no-mates. I’m going out too, with my friends,’ she told us. ‘And, Mum, can I go to the Gold Star tonight? Julie and heaps of the other girls are going. It’s the special Christmas party teen night.’

‘I don’t much like the sound of the Gold Star,’ said Mum. ‘It’s got a bit of a reputation. Some of the kids take drugs there.’

‘No they don’t! Not us lot. We just want to dance,’ Zara insisted.

‘And kiss the boys,’ said Rowena, grinning. ‘I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go to the Gold Star!’

‘I’m not sure you’re old enough, Zara,’ said Mum. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t go.’

‘But that’s not fair! Half the girls in my class will be going! Oh please! I won’t take any drugs, I’m not stupid. I won’t even drink. I’ll just dance and have fun.’

‘How are you going to get home then? I don’t want you taking the bus late at night. The deal is, I come and fetch you in the car at … eleven?’

‘Eleven! But it’ll only just have started livening up at eleven. Julie always stays till one, sometimes even later.’

‘Twelve then. On the dot, Cinderella. Otherwise you don’t go,’ said Mum firmly.

‘OK,’ said Zara. ‘Mum, you know you said you’d taken out lots of money for Christmas? Well, there’s this sparkly top in Primark – it’s specially reduced – do you think there’s any way you could just lend me the money, and then Dad’s bound to give us some cash for Christmas so I can pay you back—’

‘Stop nagging Mum,’ I said. ‘You’re always trying to get her to buy you new stuff.’

‘Well, it’s OK for you, Frankie, you don’t care what you wear. Like that ridiculous jumper you’ve got on over your pyjamas!’

‘It’s a great jumper. I love it. And it’s really cosy for skating.’

‘You can’t wear it out! And it’s got a rainbow on it!’

‘I like rainbows,’ said Rowena.

‘Yes, what’s the matter with rainbows?’ I asked.

‘Well, it’s sometimes a sign that you’re gay,’ said Zara.

I willed myself to stay cool, but I felt the blood rushing to my face. ‘So?’

‘Well, you’re not gay, are you? So don’t go round dressing as if you are.’

‘Mum wore this jumper once. And she’s not gay.’

‘True,’ said Mum. ‘But isn’t there something wrong with the sleeve?’

‘It doesn’t show,’ I said, tucking it up.

‘Honestly!’ said Zara. ‘Why can’t you take pride in what you wear?’

‘Honestly!’ I echoed. ‘Why can’t you stop obsessing about all the tat you wear?’

‘Girls!’ said Mum. ‘Stop bickering.’

‘I’ve got little rainbows on my lunch box,’ said Rowena. ‘Does that mean I’m gay?’

‘No, darling, it just means you’ve got a pretty lunch box,’ Mum told her. ‘Eat your porridge.’

‘Could I possibly have golden syrup on mine?’ Rowena asked. ‘It’s starting to taste a bit boring.’

I wondered whether to wear the jumper or not. I didn’t want Sally to think I was making some sort of statement. Surely Zara was being ridiculous. I’d seen hundreds of people wearing rainbow motifs – they couldn’t all be gay, could they? I didn’t want Zara to win the argument, so I decided I’d jolly well wear it. I’d keep my coat on because it was probably freezing at the ice rink, so it wouldn’t show anyway.

I was ready far too soon. Zara had only just gone into the bathroom and I knew she’d be there ages and ages. I risked taking out the scarlet notebook and found my best rollerball, ready to make a start on my fairy story. I wanted to write about a fair princess. Was she languishing in a tower, stoking the cinders, fast asleep in a four-poster, waiting for her handsome prince to rescue her? I could write the story from the prince’s point of view. Or maybe my story didn’t need a handsome prince. It could be about two girls, a golden-haired proud princess and a serving maid, dark and bold and gallant. She could rescue the fair princess.

I daydreamed for twenty minutes, but in the end shoved the notebook back in my drawer, the pages still blank. Zara came back from the bathroom. I watched her getting dressed.

‘Stop staring at me!’ she snapped.

‘What do you want me to do, wear a blindfold? I can’t help staring at you when we share a bedroom, you idiot,’ I said.

I kept watching as she started carefully applying make-up at her dressing table.

‘That cream stuff you’re rubbing on your face – does it cover up spots?’ I asked.

‘Foundation. Well, it helps. If you put concealer on first,’ said Zara.

I’d never even heard of concealer. It sounded a comforting concept. I’d like to rub concealer all over my face so that it became a smooth mask, hiding the real me. Zara handed me the little stick and I started rubbing it on liberally.

‘Not like that! Here, I’ll show you.’ She smoothed it on carefully and then applied foundation on top.

I peered in her mirror. It seemed to work.

‘How about I put a bit of make-up on you? You’ve got lovely eyes, actually. If we put a bit of shadow and eyeliner and mascara on them, they’d look incredible,’ she said.

‘Would they?’ I asked hopefully.

I let her apply it all, though she kept telling me off for blinking at the wrong moment. I didn’t like the feel of all that goo on my eyes, and wanted to give them a good rub, though I knew I mustn’t smudge them. I looked so different with make-up. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.

‘You need a bit of lipstick to balance it,’ said Zara, getting into the swing of things now.

‘I hate lipstick,’ I protested.

‘Not bright red. Pale. Lip coloured,’ said Zara.

‘Then what’s the point?’ I asked.

‘You’ll see. Keep still and stretch out your lips.’

I did this reluctantly and Zara applied the lipstick.

‘Let me see, then,’ I said as she peered at me.

‘Wait a minute. You still look so pale. You need a little bit of blusher.’

‘Oh God, no, I’ll look like a painted doll,’ I protested, but Zara was already dabbing it along my cheekbones.

‘That’s better. It gives your face more definition too. Oh, Frankie, you look almost pretty!’ said Zara.

‘Almost?’

‘Really!’ she said. ‘Maybe I’ll demonstrate on you when I start my YouTube channel.’

I looked in the mirror at this new highlighted version of me. I didn’t look pretty, sadly, but maybe I looked cooler? Older? More knowing?

‘I could try to put your hair up too,’ Zara offered.

I experimented with scraping my hair up to see what it looked like. ‘No, it makes my ears look sticky outy. But the make-up looks all right, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it does. You’ll have to learn to do it yourself now. And why not dress up in something nice?’ said Zara. ‘That jumper really is awful, Frankie. Why not wear a skirt for once? Your legs aren’t too bad, though they’re a bit skinny. Go for it!’

‘Zara, I’m going skating, not prancing down a catwalk,’ I said. ‘But thanks for doing the make-up.’

I felt a bit self-conscious showing it off to Mum and Rowena. Mum raised her eyebrows when she saw me.

‘Oh dear, do I look like a clown? It was all Zara’s idea,’ I said hurriedly.

‘No, it looks great. You just look different, that’s all. But in a good way.’

‘I think it looks amazing!’ said Rowena. She went dashing upstairs. ‘Zara, will you put make-up on me too, please!’

‘Just a tiny dab of lipstick,’ said Mum. ‘Two grown-up girls is quite enough. I need one baby still.’

‘What are you going to do while we’re all out, Mum?’ I asked.

‘Have a read. Put all the groceries away when they come. Maybe make some mince pies.’ Mum yawned. ‘Or maybe go back to bed and have a little nap. Lovely!’

It didn’t sound very lovely to me. It sounded a bit sad and lonely. I suddenly burned with hatred for Dad all over again. I remembered the Christmassy things they used to do together. I wished Mum had more friends now. She’d had fun with Coral before she went to work in Hong Kong.

‘Why don’t you FaceTime Coral?’ I suggested.

‘Yes, maybe I will.’

‘And you could text one of the teachers from work, see if they want to meet up for a coffee or something. Maybe that Chris someone – the one who takes Year Five. Didn’t he ask you out for a meal once?’

‘Ages ago. He’s living with his girlfriend now. Frankie, I’m fine. Dear Lord, you’ll be suggesting I go on Tinder next.’

‘Well, you could, you know. Or maybe Match.com?’

‘I don’t want a match. Which is just as well, because who wants a faded old forty-something, in debt, with three girls, plus an incurable illness,’ said Mum.

‘It isn’t always going to be incurable, not when they’ve found the right drug to use. And some people go into remission and it never, ever comes back,’ I pointed out.

‘Yes, and other people have two relapses in one year,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t let’s put a downer on the day, Frankie. I’ll have a lovely potter at home, and then we can stay up late and watch a DVD this evening, OK?’

‘If you absolutely promise it won’t be Frozen all over again,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood, but feeling so sad for Mum that I was almost crying.

I took Bear out to the park and threw his ball for him again and again to try to wear him out. ‘You look after Mum while we’re gone, promise?’ I whispered into his gorgeous ears.

Yet when Sam came round and we set off for the skating rink with Rowena, I’m ashamed to say I forgot all about Mum. My mind was so full of Sally that I could barely make conversation with the other two.

‘Are you OK, Frankie?’ Sam asked.

‘Of course,’ I said.

‘Are you crying?’

‘No, silly!’ I wasn’t crying, not even about Mum. The wind was simply making my eyes water – but I couldn’t dab them with a tissue because they might smudge. I hoped I didn’t have little black trails running down my cheeks.

Sam was still peering at me.

‘What?’ I said, slightly irritated.

‘Why have you got all that make-up stuff on?’ he asked.

He hadn’t mentioned it when he first saw me, so I’d assumed he hadn’t noticed.

‘I often wear make-up,’ I said stupidly. I hadn’t worn it since I was Rowena’s age, and then only playing.

‘No you don’t,’ he said. ‘It looks weird on you.’

‘Well, thanks very much for the compliment!’ I almost was crying now. Why did he have to be so horrible? Did I really look weird? Should I rush home and scrub it all off before Sally saw me like this?

‘I think Frankie looks beautiful,’ Rowena insisted. ‘And I’ve got make-up on too! Just a little lipstick, but it feels lovely.’ She smacked her lips at him.

‘Yes, she does,’ said Sam. ‘You both look lovely. I really didn’t mean you looked weird, Frankie, though I suppose it sounded like that. It’s just I never thought you could be bothered with make-up and stuff like that.’

‘Well, I’ve started bothering now,’ I said. ‘Nearly all the girls my age wear make-up. Even boys bother with make-up nowadays.’

‘Count me out,’ said Sam. Then he suddenly gave me a hug. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You really do look great in make-up – just different. Grown up.’

‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ I asked.

‘Yes, only I wish you weren’t wearing an old teddy bear for a coat – I’ve got a mouthful of fur now,’ said Sam.

‘All the better to give you a bear hug back,’ I said, and we started mock wrestling.

‘Honestly, you two, you’re like little children!’ Rowena said prissily. She started zigzagging along the pavement. ‘See, I can skate already, Sammy. I bet I’ll be able to do that whirly round-and-round thing too.’

‘I should practise keeping upright first,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit harder than it looks. I’ll be all right though, seeing I’m an ace roller skater.’

‘I’m the ace roller skater!’ I said indignantly, and then I realized he was teasing.

‘I bet Sally’s the best skater though,’ said Rowena.

She was right. Sally was on the rink before us, wearing a thick cream Aran sweater, woolly red hat and mittens, black jeans and snowy-white boots. She was skating around the rink in graceful strides, but whenever she found a space she did a spin.

‘There’s Sally! And look, look, she’s doing the whirly thing!’ Rowena shouted eagerly, hanging over the wooden barrier. ‘Hey, Sally, will you show me?’

Sally stopped spinning and came flying over to us. She looked incredible, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed pink.

‘Hey there!’ she said. ‘I’ve already got your tickets. Here you are – and tokens if you need to hire boots.’ She fished them all out of her jeans pocket. ‘I’m so glad you came!’

I had a quick peer around the crowded rink. I couldn’t see Marnie or Georgia or Scarlett anywhere. It was a huge relief. I felt my heart banging in my chest. I just hoped I’d be able to skate without making too much of a fool of myself.

Sally joined us after we’d gone through the entrance and collected our boots. Rowena was disappointed she couldn’t hire white boots like Sally’s.

‘They’ve only got these ugly brown ones,’ she said.

‘Yes, but they match your brown eyes,’ said Sally. ‘Here, shall I show you how to lace them up?’

‘Why are yours white?’

‘Because they’re mine. I go skating quite a lot, so I need my own boots.’

‘I bet you’ve got ballet shoes too,’ said Sam. ‘And tap. And riding boots. And flippers for scuba diving.’

‘And great big hairy yeti boots for stamping on cheeky boys,’ said Sally.

I wasn’t sure if this was flirting or not. It was the sort of silly conversation Sam and I had, always teasing each other. I couldn’t be sure about Sam and Sally though. I wished I could get inside their heads to see what they were thinking. Yet I’d have died if anyone could see the turmoil inside my head.

I laced my ugly hired boots and stood up gingerly. So far, so good. I took a step and stopped dead. I hadn’t realized it would feel so precarious. I was used to clumping around on roller skates without even thinking. It was so much harder balancing on a thin blade. But skates made everyone look clumsy on the ground. Even Sally looked odd. Once I was on the ice I was sure I’d be able to glide. I knew exactly what to do.

‘Hold hands with me, Rowena,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s step onto the ice.’

‘Can we hold onto the side?’ she asked, hopping anxiously from one skate to the other.

‘That’s for babies,’ said Sam, and stepped boldly forward himself.

‘Can he skate?’ Sally asked me.

‘Roller skate,’ I said.

‘Hmm,’ she said, raising her eyebrows.

Sam lurched forward, waving his arms to keep his balance. He wobbled alarmingly and tried speeding up. He staggered along till he was at breakneck speed, weaving in and out of the other skaters, his legs wobbling.

‘Slow down, Sammy!’ I yelled.

‘How?’ he shouted back, turning towards me.

This threw him further off balance, and he teetered on one leg, his arms waving like windmills. There was no way he could stop himself. He fell down hard on his bottom, practically bouncing with the impact.

‘I think he needs a bit of help,’ said Sally, dashing onto the ice.

She reached Sam before he could manage to haul himself up. She held out a hand and got him to his feet, then tucked her arm round his waist.

‘She’s cuddling him!’ exclaimed Rowena.

‘Of course she isn’t,’ I said. ‘She’s just supporting him so he doesn’t fall down again.’

She was talking to him, her face very close to his, but then I suppose she had to make herself heard on the noisy rink. Then they both took a step forward, gliding slowly, then another, and another, and at last Sam’s legs got into the right sort of rhythm.

‘He’s skating!’ said Rowena. ‘Oh, Sally, come over here, help me skate too!’

‘I don’t think she can hear you. But don’t worry, Ro, I’ll help you skate. You can clutch on to the rail with one hand and I’ll hold the other. We’ll glide just like Sally.’

‘Promise we won’t fall over,’ said Rowena.

‘I promise,’ I said, crossing my fingers.

At first it seemed almost easy. Very odd, a bit scary, but we both stepped to the right, stepped to the left, nearly gliding. I knew I was poking my head forward to keep an eye on our feet – my bottom must have been sticking out comically – but at least we were moving and upright.

Then we came to a little cluster of people bunched up beside the rail, unwilling to let go even for a moment.

‘No problem, we’ll just skate round them,’ I said. ‘Come on – one, two, one, two, one—’

I don’t know which of us wobbled first. It could have been Rowena, it could have been me. It didn’t really matter. We both lost our footing and couldn’t save ourselves. We slipped and fell down with a bump.

‘Oh, that hurt! And it’s all wet and cold! You promised you weren’t going to let us fall over!’ said Rowena, half laughing, half crying.

‘I didn’t mean us to,’ I said, trying to get up but failing.

‘Here.’ Sally was skating over to us.

‘Sally! Please will you skate with me and show me how to do the whirly thing!’ Rowena begged, staggering to her feet.

‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘If that’s all right?’ she asked, looking at me.

‘Sure,’ I said.

So Sally skated off with Rowena and Sam made his way over to me. He faltered every now and then, but seemed mostly to have got into his stride.

‘You didn’t hurt yourself, did you, Frankie?’ he asked.

‘Of course not,’ I said, though it had been surprisingly painful landing with such a bump.

‘Here, take my hand. We’ll go around together. I seem to have got into the swing of it now. Sally’s a great skater, isn’t she?’ he said.

‘Yes, she is.’

Sam clasped my hand and we crept slowly forward, out of step.

‘No, left foot first. Here, we need to be closer. Sally did it like this.’ He tried to put his arm round my waist. ‘It’s a bit difficult when you’re wearing your hairy bear coat. Why don’t you take it off?’

I clung onto it. I didn’t want to risk anyone nicking it, though common sense told me no one would really want a matted fur coat that was twenty years old. And I didn’t want to show the rainbow jumper in case Sally thought it was weird. So Sam and I staggered around uncomfortably. I kept looking at Sally and Rowena. Sally was wonderful with her, holding her upright and steering her carefully. Rowena’s skinny legs kept buckling, but Sally made sure she didn’t trip or fall, and when they’d been round the rink a few times she clasped her round the waist and spun her round and round.

‘Did you see?’ Rowena cried breathlessly when Sally brought her back to us. ‘I did the whirly thing! I really did it! It was the most amazing feeling. Skating is the best thing ever!’

‘Thanks, Sally,’ I said.

‘Come back and help me do the whirly thing,’ Sam joked.

‘You’ve had your turn. It’s Frankie’s go now,’ said Sally.

‘No, it’s OK. I’m wearing this silly coat anyway, so I can’t really skate properly,’ I stammered.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Sally, and she took my hand.

It was just the simplest little gesture, one hand touching another, and we were both wearing woolly mittens, but my arm tingled right up past my elbow.

‘You can do it, Frankie,’ Sally murmured.

And I could, I really could! I held her hand, I felt the rhythm of her steps, I followed her lead, and all by themselves my feet glided forward in turn. I’d got my balance at last. We were skating, skating, skating …