I don’t know how long we were together. It could have been minutes, it could have been half an hour or longer. We were in a world of our own until we heard footsteps, and then a tentative knock at the door.

‘Maybe it’s Sammy,’ I whispered.

‘Let’s just keep quiet and then he’ll go away,’ Sally whispered back.

‘Sally?’ It was a girl’s voice. ‘I know you’re in there.’

‘Oh God,’ said Sally. She raised her voice. ‘I’ll be down soon, Marnie.’

‘Why can’t I come in?’ she said. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just buzz off, will you?’

But Marnie took no notice. She came bursting in and snapped on the light. She gasped when she saw us.

‘You’re with Frankie!’ she said, sounding agonized.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t get all hysterical,’ Sally snapped.

‘I can’t believe it!’

‘Look, we were just kissing.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ said Marnie, looking at me. ‘You know Sally’s my best friend for ever.’

‘Stop being so childish,’ said Sally. ‘You’re a little bit drunk, Marnie. I think we all are. Let’s just shut up and go down to the den and get even more drunk together, OK?’

Marnie shook her head, and then suddenly put her hand over her mouth.

‘Oh God, you’re going to be sick. Run to the bathroom, quick!’ said Sally.

Marnie ran, making horrible heaving sounds.

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ said Sally. ‘Why does she have to get in such a state? I’d better go and see she’s all right. OK?’

‘Yes, OK. But Sally … just now. It did mean something to you, didn’t it?’ I said.

‘It meant so much to me,’ said Sally. ‘You mean so much to me, Frankie – don’t you know that?’

She kissed me again quickly and then hurried after Marnie. I stayed in her bedroom, hoping she’d come back soon, but after ten minutes there was still no sign of her. I went along to the bathroom but there was no one there. Maybe Marnie had gone home and Sally had gone down to the den, hoping to find me there.

I went downstairs. Sam was in the hall.

‘There you are! You keep disappearing! My mum’s just texted. She’s outside,’ he said. ‘Actually, she’s been there some time. I must have missed her first two texts. Come on, Frankie, she’s getting a bit fussed.’

‘Just let me find Sally to say goodbye,’ I said.

‘Sally’s even worse than you for disappearing. Please, Frankie. We don’t want my mum banging at the door, now do we?’

So we left together. Lucy was cross at first, but then she calmed down a bit and asked if we’d had a good time.

‘Sort of,’ said Sam. ‘We’re not really party people, are we, Frankie?’

‘True,’ I agreed.

‘Well, you both seem in reasonable shape. I was starting to worry you were both drunk or drugged and totally out of it,’ said Lucy.

I felt drunk and drugged, but it was with happiness – though Marnie had taken the edge off the most beautiful moment of my life. I shut my eyes to relive it.

‘Sleepyhead,’ said Sam, and put his arm round me so I could lean on his shoulder.

‘Ah!’ said his mother, looking at us in her rear-view mirror. ‘Two little baby lovebirds.’ She sounded as if she was mocking us.

‘Mum!’ said Sam, but he didn’t sound as if he minded too much.

I patted his chest guiltily, but then closed my eyes and fell properly asleep. It was hard to wake up when we got home. I gave Sam a quick hug, thanked his mother for fetching me and then stumbled up my own garden path.

Coral opened the door for me. ‘In you come, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘I heard the car drawing up. Happy New Year!’

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘I insisted she went to bed straight after midnight because she was looking so exhausted, but I expect she’s still awake. Give her a quick kiss before going to bed yourself. You look shattered too. But happy?’

‘Very happy,’ I said.

‘The Sally situation good?’

‘Very, very good. And loads of people liked my jacket!’

‘Great. Tell me all about the party tomorrow, darling. Night-night now. Sweet dreams.’

I could barely keep my eyes open when I crawled into bed, but I texted Sally.

Had to go, soz. This is my happiest New Year ever! All the love in the world Frankie xxxxxxx

I wasn’t sure she’d hear my text with the hubbub of the party all around her, and she wasn’t always prompt with her replies. But this time she texted back immediately.

All love to you too, your own Sally xxxxxxx

I did as Coral told me and had the sweetest dreams ever. When I woke early in the morning, the whole party seemed like a dream, and I started to wonder if it had really happened, though I had the thudding headache and raging thirst to prove that I’d been somewhere.

I crept downstairs to get myself a glass of water. I’d thought no one else was up, but Coral was in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee.

‘Good morning, Frankie!’ she said. ‘I thought you’d be lying in till lunchtime! Oh dear, you look a bit pale. Too much to drink last night!’ she said, shaking her head at me.

‘No, not at all! I mostly drank Coke. I had one glass of punch when I first got there and didn’t like it,’ I protested, pouring myself a glass of water.

‘You drank the New Year in on Coke?’ said Coral, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh! I forgot. I did have a glass of champagne then. Or two,’ I admitted.

‘Dear goodness, a hangover and you’re not yet fourteen!’ said Coral sternly, but I could tell she was teasing me. ‘I’ll make you a coffee – and you’d better take a couple of paracetamol with that water.’

I swallowed the pills she gave me and gulped down the glass of water. I was ashamed but I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of pride too. A hangover sounded so grown up! I was kind of equal with Zara now.

‘You won’t tell Mum, will you, Coral?’ I said.

‘No, she’d only worry. In a little while I’m going to make her breakfast in bed. She gets so tired out, poor love. She never complains, does she, and yet I can see how exhausted she is,’ said Coral.

‘I make her breakfast too. Sometimes,’ I said guiltily. ‘Oh, Coral, do you think this new treatment will make her feel a bit better?’

‘I very much hope so, darling. I can’t bear to think that she didn’t tell me how ill she was – and I was so wrapped up in myself I didn’t see how drawn she looked when we FaceTimed each other. How can I have been so blind when I love her so much?’ said Coral. ‘She means all the world to me.’

I picked up my coffee and took a sip, suddenly wondering.

‘Coral …’

‘Mm?’

‘Coral, you and Mum … You’re not in love with each other, are you?’

‘What?’ Coral blinked at me. ‘Oh, sweetheart, what a lovely idea! Wouldn’t it be neat if we were? We do love each other to bits, and we’ll always be the bestest of friends, but no, we’re both too hung up on men, more’s the pity!’

‘Sorry. It was a daft thing to think,’ I said.

‘It was very sweet, darling. And actually I’ll give you a bit of advice, though I’ve always sworn not to come over all Auntie Coral and lecture you. I’ve fallen in love several times – many times – and it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t always last. Whereas really good friends generally stay friends, no matter what. Oh God, that sounds like the sort of banal tripe you read in birthday cards – but I do mean it.’

‘Sammy’s my best friend for ever,’ I said.

‘Though it’s obvious to everyone that he’d like to be more than that,’ said Coral. She paused. ‘Maybe one day …?’

‘No. Though it would all be so much simpler. But I could never feel about him the way I feel about Sally.’ Even saying her name out loud made me blush a little.

Coral sighed wistfully. ‘I wish I was nearly fourteen and in love for the first time,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing to beat it.’

‘Who was your first love then, Coral?’

‘Oh, it was the boy who did our newspaper round. He was a year or so older than me, and I thought he was quite wonderful. I’d get up an hour early and lurk in the hall until I heard the creak of our garden gate, and then I’d open the door and take the paper from him, just to have the opportunity of saying thank you! I was incredibly thrilled when he asked me to go to the pictures with him. I didn’t have contacts in those days and I thought I looked a fright in my glasses, so I sat in the back row with him, the screen a total blur, but I didn’t care a jot. I was with him and we were kissing and I didn’t care about anything else.’ Coral shook her head at herself.

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘You went out with him again?’

‘Yes, for months. Practically every night. But then it sort of fizzled out,’ she said.

‘What was his name?’

‘Mm, David something.’

‘You were in love with him and you can’t even remember his last name?’ I asked incredulously.

‘Well, it was a long time ago. And I’ve had a few boyfriends since!’

‘So you and David aren’t in touch any more?’

‘No, I haven’t got a clue what happened to him,’ said Coral. ‘I’d actually forgotten all about him till you asked.’

‘Truly?’

‘Well, maybe I get a little frisson in WHSmith when I see a pile of newspapers,’ said Coral, but I think she was teasing me.

Maybe she was just spinning me a tale to warn me that first love doesn’t last. I’d make sure I proved her entirely wrong. I was certain I was going to be in love with Sally for ever. I imagined us as two old ladies, when Sally’s golden hair had turned silver, and I wore my long grey locks up in a bun. She’d be someone special and famous, maybe an actress – and I’d be a writer. Perhaps I could even write plays for Sally to star in. We’d have our own house and Bear’s great-grandchild would be devoted to us.

It was just like a fairy tale. I remembered I was supposed to write a proper fairy tale for Mr White. I was sure Ivneet would have written hers by now. Dear Ivneet. I promised myself I’d get started that very day. I did write – page after page in my beautiful scarlet leather manuscript book – but it was the start of a diary, and I just wrote endlessly about Sally.

I texted her too, and she texted back asking if I was free the next day, because she wanted to go up to London and spend her Christmas money.

Just us? I texted, because I was shy of Sally’s mother, and I definitely couldn’t stand the thought of going in a girly gang along with Marnie, Georgia and Scarlett.

Of course just us!

I was thrilled, but had to tell a little white lie when I asked Mum if I could go.

‘Would it be OK if I went shopping with Sally tomorrow?’ I asked.

‘Yes, of course, darling,’ she said. She was in such a good mood now that Coral was here. She still looked tired, but her eyes were bright and she smiled a lot. In fact, Mum and Coral often acted like schoolgirls, getting the giggles and teasing each other.

I knew Mum assumed I meant shopping at Whitelands. I wasn’t totally sure she’d let me go all the way to London just with Sally, so I didn’t mention it.

I told Zara though, and she was really envious.

‘I’d give anything to go shopping in London,’ she said. ‘But how will you get the money for your train fare?’

I’d already figured that out. I waited until the evening, when I was helping Coral make the supper while Mum put her feet up on the sofa.

‘I feel awful asking this, Coral, but I don’t suppose you’d lend me some money. Just enough for a return train fare and a very cheap lunch? I swear I’ll save every penny of my pocket money and pay you back,’ I said.

‘Train fare?’

‘I want to go to London with Sally,’ I whispered.

‘And your mum’s said yes?’

‘Sort of,’ I said uncomfortably.

Coral looked at me long and hard, clearly not believing me.

‘Well, I don’t think I mentioned the London part. I didn’t want to worry her, and you know how she fusses,’ I said.

‘You’re a wicked devious girl, Francesca Bennet,’ said Coral – but she slipped me the money all the same! ‘Though for God’s sake be careful and look after yourself!’ she warned me.

I met Sally at the station at ten the next morning. I thought she might be late. In fact, I was terrified she might not turn up at all. I kept checking my phone to see if she’d cancelled – but there she was, waiting for me, in her red coat and black boots, with her trilby hat tilted cutely to one side.

I felt ludicrously nervous all of a sudden, my mouth drying so much I could hardly croak out ‘Hello’ – but then she grinned and said I was such a star for coming, and I felt I might burst with happiness.

‘You truly don’t mind going round all the clothes shops?’ she asked.

‘I’d love to,’ I said, though I’d always moaned like anything when Mum and Zara dragged me on a clothes-shopping trip.

I’d never bothered about what I wore before, but today I’d abandoned the black yeti coat and was wearing my green Chinese jacket again, though I had a T-shirt underneath my new sweatshirt to keep me warm. It was very cold, even though the sun was out. My fingers were freezing – even wearing mittens – and I was sure my nose was bright red, but I was with Sally, and that was enough to keep me warm.

She insisted on paying my train fare, though I showed her I had enough money to pay my own way.

‘Never mind, you pay for lunch then,’ she said.

This unnerved me, because I wasn’t sure my money would stretch to lunch for two. It would be fine if we stuck to McDonald’s, but perhaps Sally would want to go somewhere posh.

‘Where do you usually eat when you go to London?’ I asked.

‘It depends. When I go with my mother she likes places like The Wolseley or The Ivy,’ said Sally.

That unnerved me totally. I’d vaguely heard of them and was certain I couldn’t afford either. When Mum took Zara and Rowena and me up to London, we went to a Pret or ate home-made sandwiches on the train. When Dad took us, we went to a pub and had cheesy chips.

‘But I think I like Maison Bertaux best. You’ll like it too, I’m sure,’ Sally continued.

I wasn’t sure at all. It was obviously French and that probably meant it was expensive.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ said Sally. ‘I was only joking about you paying for lunch, Frankie.’

‘You’re a mind reader,’ I said. ‘For Christmas I gave Sammy this book called The Chrysalids – goodness knows what that means – but it’s about these children who can read each other’s minds.’

‘Did Sammy mind you not spending the day with him? I know you guys usually hang out together. You could have brought him, you know,’ said Sally.

I wished I could read her mind. Had she wanted me to bring him?

‘I don’t think Sammy would go a bundle on clothes shopping,’ I said.

‘True,’ she agreed.

‘And I thought this was an outing just for us,’ I said, trying to sound as if I didn’t really care one way or the other.

‘It is!’ said Sally. ‘And first of all I’m planning to go somewhere specially for you, Frankie, because I know clothes shopping isn’t really your thing either.’

Maybe she really could read minds.

The train was crowded with families going to the sales or to see the sights, and the tube was so jam-packed Sally and I had to cling to each other, our noses practically touching. We couldn’t help getting the giggles, and a woman rolled her eyes and sighed at us, which made us giggle even more. I couldn’t wait to see where Sally was taking me.

It turned out it was the National Portrait Gallery, which was a bit of a surprise. Mum had taken us there when Zara and I were still at primary school, so we could start at the Tudors and then walk through all the galleries and get a proper idea of history through the centuries. It had been fun at first, and I’d liked Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, with the body of a woman and the heart of a lion, and her big brainy forehead and enormous dresses that were stiff with jewels. However, to be honest, I got a bit bored after a while.

But Sally wasn’t taking me on a whirlwind time-travel through history.

‘It’s a special show. I thought you’d like it,’ she told me.

It was an exhibition of women writers.

‘They’re not great lookers, are they?’ said Sally as we peered at Jane Austen and Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë and George Eliot and Virginia Woolf and Beatrix Potter, but she was just teasing me because I was gazing at them reverently.

They didn’t just have portraits in the exhibition. There were letters and notes and manuscripts. It was extraordinary peering at the first handwritten page of Jane Eyre and imagining Charlotte biting the end of her pen and then starting that amazing first paragraph in her neat sloping handwriting.

‘Maybe your red notebook will be here in a hundred years’ time,’ said Sally.

‘Well, it’s just as well I’ll be dead then, because I’ve just written all about you, and I’d be embarrassed to have strangers reading it,’ I said.

‘You’ve written about me?’ Sally asked, looking pleased.

‘Heaps. All about everything,’ I said.

‘You’d better hide it away somewhere very safe and secret. Imagine if your sister read it. Or your mother!’

‘Well, it would be really embarrassing – but they do know how I feel. I’ve told them.’

‘You haven’t!’

‘So you haven’t told anyone about us?’ I asked, a little disappointed.

‘No, and I’m not going to either.’

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘It’s secret. I’d be crazy to tell my family. God, imagine what my brother would say! And my father!’

‘What about your mother? Wouldn’t she understand?’

‘I don’t tell her anything at all. I don’t want anyone to know.’

‘But they do. Marnie saw us,’ I said.

‘Oh, her,’ said Sally dismissively. ‘I’ve told her she got the wrong end of the stick. She’ll believe anything.’

‘You’ve seen her since the party?’

‘She only lives up the road from me,’ said Sally. ‘I can’t help seeing her. She’s always around.’

‘Sally … It’s none of my business, and I know you two have been friends ever since nursery school, but now, you and Marnie – well, you’ve never been in love, have you? And kissed and—’

‘No!’ said Sally. ‘With Marnie? Absolutely not.’

I knew it was horrible of me, I should feel sorry for poor Marnie, but I felt a stab of pure happiness that Sally seemed horrified by the very idea.

‘So am I your first, you know, girlfriend?’ I persisted.

‘Of course you are,’ said Sally, and she tucked her arm through mine.

She insisted on buying me postcards of all the main women writers as a little souvenir.

’You can stick them in your notebook if you run out of things to write about me,’ she said.

‘As if that’s going to happen!’ I told her.

I didn’t even mind going to Topshop and Zara and All Saints, keeping guard over Sally’s bag and clothes in the heaving fitting rooms while she tried on tops and jeans and dresses and jackets. I tried not to stare at her too obviously. I’d seen her undress heaps of times in the changing rooms at school. Sally was never the sort of girl to cower self-consciously in a corner and wrap herself in a towel. But then she’d just been Sally Mac, the most popular girl in our class, and later she became Hateful Sally, the girl who made my life a misery. But now she was my Sally, and it was so wonderful that the most striking girl in the fitting room was my girlfriend.

She wanted me to try on some clothes too, but I felt too self-conscious in front of her. I did try on her red coat over my Chinese jacket, wanting to see what it looked like. Without thinking I put my hands in the pockets, and felt something small and hard and familiar. It was the little carved bear Dad had bought me. I was so touched that she carried it around with her.

It was long past lunchtime when Sally had finally chosen her new outfits: a black satin top that made her skin look pearly white; trousers with a black-and-white dogstooth check; a purple calf-length dress with a swirly pattern, and a pair of black boots with pointy toes and Cuban heels. She looked marvellous in everything. She didn’t seem to realize this, and kept asking my opinion, begging me to be honest, gazing doubtfully in the mirror. Zara would have snorted with laughter at the idea of anyone asking my advice about style and fashion, but it made me feel great.

I was amazed by how much money she had to spend. I think it embarrassed her too, because she kept begging me to choose something for myself. I eventually picked out a pair of black socks patterned with silver stars.

‘You want socks?’ said Sally. ‘Oh come on, Frankie, socks are way too boring.’

‘I’d love this pair, honestly,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’m boring.’

‘You’re the least boring girl in the whole world,’ she said.

I found I did have just enough money to treat Sally to lunch, because Maison Bertaux turned out to be a lovely little café in Soho. It had wonderful cakes. We each chose a strawberry cream cake and then shared a coffee éclair. Then we wandered around Soho for a while, feeling very bold and sophisticated, and then went down the Charing Cross Road, where I had a little browse in the second-hand bookshops, though I was worried about Sally getting bored.

‘Let’s go to a park or somewhere – it’s all so crowded,’ she said.

We walked past Trafalgar Square and found our way to St James’s Park. I hoped we’d find a shady private corner where we could hold hands, maybe kiss. But the park was full of day trippers and tourists too, so we just wandered up and down, while the ducks quacked loudly for food and the weird pelicans preened themselves on the rocks.

The light was fading and I knew Mum would be starting to wonder where on earth I was. I had a quick glance at my phone and saw she’d texted me twice already.

Sorry!!! Be home soon, Fxxx I fibbed, because it would take at least another hour and a half on the tube and train.

We had to stand most of the way back, even on the train. Sally wobbled rather, clutching her bags, and I reached out and steadied her. I carried on holding her for the rest of the journey.

We parted company at the station. I hoped we might be able to meet up the next day, but Sally said she had to get ready for school on Wednesday.

‘But you’ll text?’

‘Of course! And then we’ll be seeing each other every single day at school – and some weekends if you like,’ said Sally.

‘Every weekend!’ I said.

We kissed goodbye – not properly of course, just a quick touch of lips on cheek – and then I hurried home, my heart thumping.