Mum must have been worried about us staying out such a long time, but she was determinedly bright and breezy. She seemed happy we’d enjoyed the skating, she asked questions about Sally, but not too many, she smiled at the film choice, and she marvelled at the treehouse.

‘You are a lucky girl, Rowena,’ she said.

‘I know!’ she agreed. ‘It’s been a wonderful day. In fact, I actually think it’s been the happiest day of my life.’

I felt exactly the same, but I knew we weren’t being tactful to Mum.

‘Did you have a good day?’ I asked.

‘Yes, lovely,’ she said.

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, nothing very much. Just a lovely, idle, pottering day. Bliss!’

Mum was sounding too cheerful now. I sometimes wished she would moan and weep and swear because she was stuck with a horrible illness that would probably get worse and worse. It was almost irritating to see her making such a superhuman effort.

At least I knew where I was with Bear. He bounded up and licked my face lavishly, telling me how much he’d missed me and how pleased he was that I’d come back at last. Apparently Zara had taken him for a walk before she went over to her friend’s, but it would have been a very short one because she always wore silly high-heeled shoes and took tiny mincing steps.

My own feet were aching after the long trek home, but I took him out for a proper walk now, pounding the pavements because the park was shut after dark, and I didn’t want to trail all the way to the sports centre by myself. Whenever we had room we broke into a run. Bear’s soft paws were silent, but my Docs landed with a thud. They beat out a rhythm again: Sal-ly, Sal-ly, Sal-ly.

I wished I hadn’t been so careless with my wretched phone. I longed to talk to Sally now, when we could be private. I spoke to her in my head instead, my thoughts so intense I almost felt they could reach her. I remembered the passage in Jane Eyre where Rochester desperately calls out to Jane, and she hears him, even though she’s hundreds of miles away. I’d thought it was a bit silly when we first read it in class, but now I understood.

It was as if all the great love stories suddenly made sense. I looked up at the sky, and it seemed wonderfully significant that there was a full moon, a perfectly round pearly-white sphere. I could see a few stars too, though I couldn’t name them because their shapes never seemed to make sense – though the Pole Star was unmistakable. The wishing star.

I stood still, puzzling Bear. He strained on his lead, wanting to hurry onwards.

‘Hang on just a second, Bear.’ I stared up at the star, my head flung back until my neck ached.

I thought of all the wishes I’d made on a star throughout my life: I wish I could be a spacegirl; I wish I had a dog and a pony and an alpaca and a whole family of lemurs; I wish I had a trampoline; I wish Mum and Dad would stop quarrelling; I wish I could play rugby like Sammy; I wish Mum wasn’t ill; I wish everyone at school liked me again.

I had wished each one so hard I felt I was swelling up and bursting, but only one star wish had ever come true. I had a dog. But he was the loveliest dog in the world and I was the luckiest girl in the world to have him. Maybe, just maybe, I could get lucky again.

I wish Sally would be my proper girlfriend and love me the way I love her.

There! I’d said it. Perhaps she was looking out of the window in that great dark, silent house and wishing on the same star about me.

I went back home with my eyes full of stars and my head full of wishes, wanting to be by myself and think about Sally in peace. But the house was the exact opposite of peaceful, because Mum and Zara were having a huge row. Zara had been on her way out to meet up with her friends at the Gold Star – or more likely one of the nearby pubs. She was wearing her old coat, one that came right down to her calves, and that made Mum suspicious. She’d demanded to see what Zara was wearing underneath.

It turned out she was wearing hardly anything – just the tiniest little crop top and a strip of skirt that nearly showed her knickers. Her friend Julie had lent them to her. Zara clearly thought she looked great.

‘You look ridiculous!’ Mum said.

‘What a thing to say to your daughter!’ said Zara.

‘What a way for my daughter to look! You’re not going out like that. Go upstairs and change into something decent!’

‘Like what? A Sunday school outfit? You don’t go to clubs wearing something decent,’ Zara shouted. ‘You go to look good and get all the boys looking at you.’

‘Yes, and I know exactly what they’ll be thinking, seeing you showing off all that bare flesh. What is it, some kind of meat market? Why can’t you wear a proper dress, for God’s sake?’

‘Oh, Mum, do you want me to look like a complete loser? No one ever wears dresses,’ Zara wailed.

‘Then you can set a trend,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not going out at all if you insist on wearing that tacky little outfit.’

‘Yes I am – and you can’t stop me.’ Zara wrapped her coat around herself and stalked out of the room in her high heels.

I thought she was bluffing, but then we heard the door slam.

‘She hasn’t really gone, has she?’ said Rowena, shocked.

Mum heaved herself out of her armchair and hurried to the door, but by the time she got there Zara was halfway down the road, running in spite of her heels. We followed her into the driveway.

‘Do you want me to go after her, Mum?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think you’d be able to stop her either.’ Mum leaned against the doorframe, shaking.

‘Mum, are you OK?’

‘I’m not feeling ill, I’m feeling furious,’ she said. ‘And so horribly helpless. Zara’s right. I can’t stop her.’

‘I wish Dad was here,’ Rowena whispered.

Mum made a strange noise. I thought she was just snorting in contempt – but then I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears.

‘Oh, Mum, don’t! It wouldn’t make any difference whatsoever if Dad was here. You shut up, Rowena. You’re just making Mum more upset,’ I said fiercely.

‘I didn’t mean to!’ Rowena was starting to cry herself.

‘Oh, don’t you cry too, kitten. It’s not your fault. I know just how much you miss your dad,’ Mum said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Well, I don’t miss him in the slightest. Good riddance, that’s what I say,’ I declared. ‘I can’t stand him. And I don’t see why we have to waste practically a whole week staying with him and his horrible girlfriend straight after Christmas. In fact, I’m not going!’

‘Don’t you start, Frankie. Come indoors, girls. We’re all making a spectacle of ourselves,’ said Mum. ‘Let’s have supper. Macaroni cheese?’

‘Yes, let’s. It’s Zara’s favourite too. Serves her right that she’s missing out,’ said Rowena. ‘She’s so bad, isn’t she, Mum?’

‘She’s not really bad. She’s fifteen, that’s all. I just can’t help worrying about her though, going to the Gold Star dressed like that,’ said Mum, giving me the cheese to grate while she put the pan on to boil for the pasta.

‘Did you see, her tummy was showing,’ said Rowena. ‘You could see her belly button! Mum, why is Zara’s tummy so flat when mine’s so roundy?’

‘Because you’re just a little girl,’ said Mum. ‘And you stay a little girl for a long, long time. I’d go bananas if you started flouncing off to the Gold Star in a weeny little skirt and not much else.’

‘I won’t be ready to do that for ages,’ said Rowena, nibbling a bit of cheese. ‘It’ll be Frankie’s turn before me.’ She started giggling. ‘Imagine Frankie in clothes like that!’

‘Never going to happen,’ I said firmly.

‘Does Sally go to the Gold Star?’ asked Rowena.

‘Of course not,’ I told her.

‘Oh, Mum, Sally’s so lovely.’ Rowena started telling Mum about Sally and the time we spent with her, giving a blow-by-blow account.

It was fun in a way because it was all I really wanted to think about too, but I wished it could stay private in my head. After we’d had our macaroni-cheese supper I wanted to go up to the bedroom, but I felt I should keep Mum company and help amuse Rowena.

Mum made a determined effort to be jolly, but after Rowena was in bed I saw how anxious she was.

‘I seem to spend my life worrying about you girls staying out late,’ Mum said, thumping the sofa despairingly.

‘Relax, Mum. Zara will be fine,’ I said.

‘Look, she acts so grown up now, but she’s still a little kid inside. She can be so silly sometimes. And you get such horrible guys hanging around the Gold Star.’

‘It’s a teen night. It’s just stupid young boys. And Zara’s not daft, it’s not like she’ll go off with anyone and – you know – get into trouble,’ I said awkwardly.

‘I know Zara’s desperate to get a proper boyfriend. If someone chats her up and turns her head, she might be idiotic enough to get herself in a bad situation. Maybe I ought to drive straight round and drag her out before she comes to any harm. You’d be all right looking after Rowena, wouldn’t you, Frankie?’

‘Yes, but you can’t do that! Zara would feel such a fool in front of her friends. She’d be furious with you,’ I said.

‘Well, then we’d be quits, because I’m furious with her,’ said Mum.

She didn’t go, but she paced around restlessly, forever getting up and looking out of the window, or going outside and peering down the street.

Every now and then we heard little drunken gangs of people going past, laughing, singing, larking around.

Mum kept looking at her watch. ‘When do the pubs close? I think I’d better drive over to the Gold Star now and wait outside. I won’t go in, but I want to be there, just in case she comes out at eleven after all. Are you sure you’ll be all right looking after Rowena?’ Mum asked. ‘You won’t answer the door to anyone, will you?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Go on then, Mum.’

I was getting pretty anxious myself. Maybe Zara thought that Mum wasn’t coming to fetch her any more. I imagined her wobbling along in her high heels, her coat swinging open. I thought of all the drunken louts wolf-whistling, making crude comments, calling her names. Zara would stalk on, calling them creeps, but maybe they’d catch hold of her.

I tried not to think of all the awful things they might do to her.

‘Frankie? Why don’t you go up to bed? Squeeze in beside Rowena. You look so tired, darling. I should have sent you upstairs ages ago,’ said Mum.

‘I’m too wired to sleep,’ I said.

‘Well, I hope I won’t be long. I’ll just drive straight to the Gold Star and bring Zara back, OK?’

I started to panic the moment Mum had gone. What if she had an accident? Perhaps her hands or legs would suddenly stop working properly. What if her eyesight failed again?

I thought of Mum, I thought of Zara – and then went upstairs to check that at least Rowena was all right. She was lying on her back, spread out like a little starfish, her duvet slipping off. I tucked her up and she murmured something, but then went straight back to sleep. I gave her a kiss on the top of her head, breathing in her warm talcum little-girl smell, and then went to our bedroom.

I sat on Zara’s bed and clutched her pillow, hugging it to me. ‘Come home safe, you idiot,’ I said.

To distract myself I started looking at all the Christmas presents I’d got, wondering if I should start wrapping them. I picked up the science fiction book for Sam and started reading the first few pages. It was one of those dystopian books about some terrifying future. It was weirdly distracting and I had finished the first chapter and started another before I checked the time.

It was getting on for midnight now. It shouldn’t be too long before Mum and Zara were back. I forced myself to read another chapter, and then I snapped the book shut and started my own pacing around the room, down the stairs, around the living room and kitchen.

Please let Mum and Zara be all right, please let Mum and Zara be all right, please let Mum and Zara be all right!

What if Mum had found Zara and they’d had a furious argument and Mum was distracted and crashed the car. What if they ended up in hospital? What if they ended up dead? Rowena and I would have to live with Dad, and that would be awful. Well, maybe Rowena wouldn’t mind so much, but I’d hate it. As soon as I was old enough, maybe sixteen or so, I’d come back to our house with Rowena and look after her, trying to be a good mother figure, though of course I could never, ever replace Mum.

I was so caught up in this fantasy that I didn’t hear the car draw up outside. It was only when the doors slammed that I ran to the window and saw Mum and Zara coming down the path, alive and well, though when our security light switched on I saw that they both looked very cross.

‘Oh, Zara, are you OK? We were so worried!’ I cried as they came into the hall.

‘Of course I’m OK, you idiot,’ she snapped.

‘Which is more than I can say for Julie,’ said Mum grimly.

‘She’s fine now, Mum. And she wasn’t drunk, it was just something she ate, that’s all. She couldn’t help it.’

‘Well, you’re going to help me scrub out that car tomorrow morning, do you hear me? It’ll be ages before the smell wears off.’

‘OK! Though it’s not my fault,’ said Zara. ‘And all Julie needed was a bit of fresh air. If you hadn’t come barging along, insisting we get in the car, then she wouldn’t even have been sick.’ Her voice rose. ‘Why did you have to come collecting me like I was a silly little kid at nursery school?’

‘Will you please keep your voice down! You’ll wake your little sister,’ said Mum coldly. ‘Rowena’s OK, isn’t she, Frankie?’

‘Yes, she stirred when I tucked her up, but she didn’t wake up,’ I said.

‘Thanks for looking after her, love,’ said Mum. ‘Now, let’s all go up to bed. I don’t know about you two but I’m exhausted. Night, Frankie. Night, Zara.’

Zara didn’t even say goodnight back, just flounced upstairs, stumbling a little in her heels.

‘Are you drunk too?’ I asked, following her.

‘No, I’m not!’ she said. ‘For God’s sake, some boys in the pub next door just bought us a Jägerbomb, that’s all. And we had a couple of mulled ciders to warm up because it’s freezing out.’

‘You were freezing because you’re hardly wearing anything,’ I said as she shrugged off her coat and stood there in her minuscule skirt. It was badly creased, making it tinier than ever. ‘God, what do you look like, Zara!’

‘You shut up, you smug little cow,’ said Zara, quickly getting into her pyjamas. ‘Mummy’s little darling! The good little girly-wirly. And it’s so not fair, because you keep staying out for hours and hours with your precious new friend Sally, and Mum never nags you in the slightest.’

‘Yes, well, she knows I’m out skating or hanging out at Sally’s house – not letting strangers buy me drinks and prancing about at a nightclub,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why on earth you’d want to anyway.’

‘Well, guess what, Miss Sunday School Teacher. Your little friend Sally seems to like going to nightclubs,’ said Zara, getting into bed.

‘Aren’t you even going to wash all that mucky make-up off your face?’ I said in disgust, not properly taking in what she’d just said. Then I stared at her. ‘What do you mean about Sally?’

‘She was there at the Gold Star tonight, whooping it up,’ said Zara.

‘Don’t be pathetic – as if I’d believe that,’ I said. ‘Look, I was with her practically all day today.’

‘So? You weren’t with her tonight. She was at the Gold Star. And if you think I look tarty, you should have seen her!’ said Zara. ‘She was wearing this tiny dress with a great big zip at the front. All the boys were egging each other on, threatening to pull it down.’

‘Sally never wears things like that!’ I snapped. ‘Which boys? Sally was there with some boys?’

‘Well, she came with those friends of hers, but she was soon flirting with a whole load of boys from school,’ said Zara.

‘I know you’re lying now, because Marnie’s not even here, she’s gone to stay with her grandmother.’

‘Is Marnie the creepy one who fawns all over her? Not that one, the other two. Georgia and Scarlett.’

‘But she would have told me if she was going!’ I said, agonized.

‘No she wouldn’t. She’s not really your friend, I keep telling you. She does all sorts behind your back. And she was making a right fool of herself tonight, flirting with Gary Masters,’ said Zara.

‘So that’s why you’re carrying on like this! You’re just jealous because he likes Sally,’ I said. ‘I bet he didn’t even give you a second glance.’

‘Yes he did! As if I cared anyway. He isn’t interested in having a proper relationship with a girl, he just wants to show off his pulling powers to all his friends. He’s pathetic,’ said Zara. ‘Now shut up and go to sleep.’

‘Look, I’d have been asleep hours and hours ago if you hadn’t kept us up worrying. You’re so mean and selfish. Didn’t you see the state Mum was in? Didn’t you read all that stuff on the internet about MS and stress?’ I hissed.

‘You’re the one Mum’s been stressed about, drifting about in her old clothes and going all moony-faced over a girl,’ Zara said, and then pulled the duvet over her head.

I lay in the dark, quivering. It was awful when we fought. We understood each other so well we knew exactly how to hurt the most. I was so tired I had a thumping headache, and yet at the same time I felt wide awake. I couldn’t get my head round the fact that Sally had gone to the Gold Star. Why hadn’t she told me she was going? Why hadn’t she asked me to go with her? And what did Zara mean by flirting? Was she just smiling at Gary Masters, chatting to him, acting friendly? Did she dance with him? Did they kiss? Did they go off together?

I wanted to pull the duvet off Zara and interrogate her – and yet I didn’t want to show her how much I cared. Did she really know I loved Sally? Did Mum know too? Were they having anxious secret conversations about me? Was I really causing Mum even more stress?

I started shivering, unable to get warm. I got up, put on my dressing gown, along with a pair of socks for my freezing feet, grabbed my pillow and The Chrysalids and crept out of the room. I went down to the kitchen. Bear was stretched out on his bed, paws hanging off the side. I lay down beside him and he stirred lazily, licked my face twice, and then went back to sleep.

I cuddled close to him, breathing in his warm doggy smell, burrowing my face into his thick fur. I used to sleep with him in my arms when he was a puppy. Now he was big enough to support me, and one of his massive paws moved gently against me, as if he was stroking me. I wished loving people was as simple and uncomplicated as loving a dog. I loved Bear and he loved me. Neither of us was in any doubt about it.

I held onto him tightly, but there was hardly room for Bear on the bed, let alone me, and I was getting a crick in my neck and cramp in my legs. I struggled up again, put on the kettle and made myself a cup of tea. Then I settled myself on the sofa in the living room, propped my pillow behind me, sipped my tea and read some more of Sam’s book. And then some more and some more.

I’d hoped I’d feel sleepy after a few pages, but I was still wide awake halfway through the book. I tried switching off the light and lying down properly, but thoughts of Sally flooded my head and I couldn’t bear the anxiety. I switched the light on again and read some more, until at last I’d finished the whole book.

I still didn’t feel I could ever sleep, but obviously I must have done, because the next thing I knew Rowena was jumping onto the sofa beside me.

‘Wakey-wakey! It’s nearly breakfast time. I went to see if Zara was back safely and she’s upstairs in her bed, but I couldn’t find you! I peeped in at Mum, I looked in the bathroom, everywhere. What are you doing here? You’ve not been here all night, have you? What’s the matter? Have you got a tummy ache? You look all weird!’ Rowena gabbled, her clear, high-pitched voice hurting my head.

‘I’m tired!’ I mumbled.

I wanted to crawl upstairs and go back to bed, but Rowena had a plan to make everyone a cup of tea to be helpful. She didn’t have the steadiest hand and the full kettle was quite heavy for a small girl, so I did the pouring for her. Rowena used the best china, the red cups with the polka dots. Mum had bought one of those packets of iced gingerbread biscuits as a Christmas treat, and Rowena insisted on putting one on each of her four doll’s saucers.

‘But it’s not Christmas yet, it’s only Christmas Eve,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know, so it’ll be a lovely surprise,’ she said happily.

Mum did her best to act as if she was thrilled to be woken early with a fancy biscuit and a cup of tea. She propped herself up on her pillows, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. If you hadn’t seen her face you’d have mistaken her for a little girl herself. She was as pale as her pillow, with dark circles like bruises under her eyes.

‘Goodness, you’re up early, girls,’ she said, looking at her alarm clock.

‘Frankie was up even earlier than me,’ said Rowena. ‘She was on the sofa reading her book with the funny name.’

‘It’s The Chrysalids. I’m giving it to Sammy for Christmas,’ I said.

‘He’ll like that. I read it when I was about your age. Very stirring,’ said Mum. ‘Coral read it too, and we used to try to send thoughts to each other. I do miss her so.’

‘We haven’t had her Christmas presents yet,’ I said. Coral always sent marvellous presents. Last year she’d sent me The Diary of Anne Frank, a jade bangle and a pair of embroidered green slippers.

‘She said she’s sending a surprise this year, but it might arrive a bit late,’ said Mum.

‘Oh no, I’ll be at Dad’s. Don’t unwrap my present then, will you, Mum?’

‘As if,’ said Mum, giving me a poke.

‘Will Coral send me another Chinese dolly?’ Rowena asked hopefully.

‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ said Mum. She looked at me. ‘Is Zara awake?’

Rowena giggled. ‘No, she’s absolutely fast asleep. Snoring!’

It seemed incredibly unfair that she should be sleeping when Mum and I had had hardly any sleep because we’d been so worried about her.

‘Let’s give Zara her cup of tea and special biscuit,’ I said to Rowena.

We took them in to her. Rowena had to put her head on Zara’s pillow and shout right into her ear before she stirred.

‘For God’s sake!’ she protested, disappearing under the duvet.

‘Look, Rowena’s made you a special cup of tea and a Christmas Eve treat,’ I said, shaking her. ‘Don’t be mean and spoil things for her.’

‘I don’t want anything. I feel like death,’ Zara mumbled. ‘My head’s splitting and I feel sick.’

‘Serves you right.’ I stared at her curiously. ‘So have you got a hangover then? You said you didn’t drink much last night – just a Jägerbomb, which is quite little, isn’t it? And some cider?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Zara said, and then she suddenly shot out of bed and ran for the bathroom.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Rowena asked.

‘I think she’s being sick,’ I said. ‘Serves her right.’