I was walking down the corridor to chemistry on Monday morning when Chloe grabbed my arm.

‘What is it?’ I asked. She was pink in the face and out of breath.

‘It’s Thunder. He went to those youth squad trials on Saturday and they’ve picked him for the team.’

I wasn’t especially concerned about getting to chemistry on time so I stopped and pulled her to one side of the fast-moving flow of students.

She was scowling; I wondered if she’d pulled that face when Thunder told her.

‘Did you congratulate him?’ I asked.

‘It’s completely not fair. He’s not even as good as me at rugby. Would you congratulate someone that got a singing part that you knew you’d be much better at?’

She had me there. ‘No. But everybody knows that you’re a nicer person than I am so people expect more from you.’

‘Well, I don’t feel very nice at the moment.’

‘I’m sorry, Clo, but it’s not Thunder’s fault that they won’t let you on the squad. It’s not worth falling out over.’ I suddenly felt like Mum when I said that. ‘Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?’

‘Yep, chemistry. Can’t you see I’m rushing to get there?’ I mimed an ultra-slow walk.

Chloe turned in the opposite direction and shuffled forward with tiny steps. ‘I’m off to French. Running all the way.’

I laughed and Chloe managed a snort.

‘I’m not happy though,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Not happy at all.’

Which worried me a bit because Chloe is usually always happy.

Mum had a staff meeting that night so, by the time she’d picked up Lucy from her After School Club and brought her home, I had almost finished making spaghetti bolognese for our tea.

Mum was on her mobile when she came into the kitchen with Lucy and Chloe behind her.

‘Lovely,’ she said into her phone and mimed a kiss at me. ‘I’ll see you then. I’m looking forward to it. Bye now.’

She put her phone down and squeezed my shoulder. ‘This looks fantastic,’ she said.

‘Who was that?’ I asked.

She lifted five plates from the rack and handed them to Chloe to put on the table. ‘Remember when I was talking about an evening class?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, I’ve decided to join a book club instead. That was the lady who organises it. My first meeting is on Wednesday.’

‘A book club?’ Lucy said. ‘What’s that? Do you all sit around reading? That doesn’t sound very interesting. You can do reading in your own bed and nothing really happens. Except when Chloe climbs in and does a Dutch oven.’

‘What on earth is a Dutch oven?’ Mum asked.

‘It’s when you’re in bed with someone and you pull the duvet over their head and then fart so that they’re trapped with your stink,’ Chloe said in a matter-of-fact way, as if this was a completely acceptable way to be talking when I was actually hoping to eat my tea without vomiting on my plate.

‘You don’t sit around reading at book clubs,’ I said to Lucy. ‘You read the book before you go and then, when you’re there, you discuss the book and answer questions about it.’

‘What on earth?’ Chloe said. ‘That’s not a club! That’s English lessons. Why would you want to do that, Mum?’

‘I like reading books,’ said Mum. ‘And I thought it would be nice to meet some new people.’

‘What’s wrong with us?’ Lucy demanded. ‘I can talk to you about books any time you like.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with you, my sweet,’ Mum said.

‘Apart from the obvious,’ I muttered.

‘Nothing at all,’ Mum said more loudly. ‘But it’s always good to make new friends, isn’t it? Now, are we ready to eat, Amelia? Shall I call Ella?’

The bolognese was delicious (even if I do say so myself). But it was less enjoyable listening to Lucy telling us the plot of every book she’s ever read (which fortunately isn’t very many). I was grateful that I’d finished my tea by the time she got on to a story called The Most Revolting Sandwich in the World. I’m pretty sure she wrote that one herself.