The next day, when we got to Dad’s house, Ella took one look at Suvi and said, ‘Is Kirsti still not sleeping well?’

Suvi shook her head. We followed her into the kitchen where Lucy was bouncing a grizzly Kirsti in her bouncy chair. ‘I don’t mind her waking up in the night,’ Suvi said. ‘I know that all babies do this, but when she’s had her feed she doesn’t want to go back to sleep. I sing to her and rock her and tell her stories, but still she does not want to sleep.’

There was a pause because nobody knew anything helpful to say. ‘I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it soon,’ Ella said eventually.

Suvi sighed. She plopped down on a chair and rested her elbows on the table, which was covered in thick books with glossy covers.

‘What are you reading?’ Chloe asked.

‘Books about babies,’ Lucy said, poking one with her finger. ‘Why are you reading about babies?’ she asked Suvi. ‘We’ve got a real one.’ She frowned at the photo of a chubby baby on the front of one of the books. ‘Kirsti’s better than this one. This one looks like he’s got a poo in his nappy.’

‘I remember your pooey nappies,’ Chloe said to Lucy.

‘I’m reading to find out about sleep patterns,’ Suvi said quickly to stop Lucy yelling at Chloe. I don’t think Chloe was even trying to wind Lucy up. She genuinely finds poo a fascinating subject. But Lucy hates being reminded that she was ever a baby.

‘The amazing thing about books,’ Suvi pressed on, ‘is that they can help you with anything. Anything you want to do – get a baby to sleep, learn to speak Japanese or climb up a mountain – someone has done it before and you can read about it in a book.’

We all thought about that. I wondered if anyone had ever written a book about having a best friend with a tiredness problem.

‘Is there a book about how to escape from a snake prison?’ Lucy asked.

‘Probably,’ Suvi said.

‘Is this whole book just about sleeping?’ Chloe asked, picking one up. ‘I could write a quicker one than that. You just close your eyes. Sleeping is easy.’

‘I used to think that too,’ Suvi said. And she buried her head in her baby instruction books again.

I left her to it and went upstairs to start on my history homework. At least I meant to start on my history, but I may have got a bit bored with that and ended up lying on my bed rereading Flambards.

Lucy came in and stood in front of me with her hands on her hips.

‘Have you seen my secret book?’ she asked.

‘What does it look like?’

‘I’m not telling; it’s secret.’

I put down my book and pulled a face at her. ‘How can I tell you if I’ve seen it if I don’t know what it looks like?’

‘You just remember all the books you’ve seen today and think if they could be my secret one.’

I picked up Flambards again. ‘I haven’t seen it.’

‘You didn’t do enough thinking! You have to help me!’

‘When did you last have it?’

‘A minute ago.’

‘A minute ago? Then how can you have lost it? It can’t have gone far.’

Because I was still trying to be less mean, I made Lucy retrace her steps and followed her round the house, looking for her stupid book. I need to find a way to be kind while still sitting down.

In the bathroom, the hand towel was on the floor in a heap. When I picked it up, there was Lucy’s special book underneath. It was a notebook with owls printed on and across the front Lucy had written:

LUCY’S FRENDS BOOK.

PRIVUT.

‘Here it is,’ I said.

She snatched it out of my hands. ‘Don’t look! Why are you looking?’

‘I’m looking because that’s what you asked me to do. You asked me to find your book and, since I’m not a sniffer dog, I had to do that with my eyes. What are you writing about your friends anyway?’

She shoved the notebook up her jumper. ‘You didn’t see anything,’ she said, like a tiny, menacing gangster.

I laughed, which she seemed to think meant I wasn’t going to comply. I don’t know why my family always think that me laughing means I’m going to cause trouble.

‘I’ll give you a lollipop to keep quiet,’ she said and she slid a red lolly in a clear plastic wrapper out of her pocket.

‘Where did you get that?’ I asked.

‘Don’t worry; I’ve got more.’

‘I wasn’t actually fretting about whether you’d manage to hit your usual excessive levels of sugar; I was wondering why you’ve always got sweets these days.’

Lucy’s eyes slid sideways. ‘My friends give them to me.’

‘Is this something to do with your book?’

Lucy gave a dramatic sigh. ‘If you really want to know, they give me things because they want to get points in my book.’

‘So you’re saying your poor deluded friends are coughing up their sweets just so you’ll give them a good score in your special book?’ I said, realising that I’d discovered Lucy’s scheme for getting her friends to do what she wanted.

Lucy attempted what I think she thought was a shy smile at her own brilliance. She looked like a baby crocodile. I’ve got to admit though, I was a tiny bit impressed.

‘Basically, you’re bribing your friends to be nice to you,’ I said.

‘Not really.’

‘Yes you are. You’re saying if they give you things and make a fuss of you, they’ll get something from you.’

‘But I don’t actually have to give them anything. All I have to do is threaten them.’

‘Well, that’s just lovely. Don’t you want people to be nice to you just because they like you?’

‘Of course they like me. I just have to teach them the best way to make me happy.’

I gave her a hard stare. ‘If you were my friend,’ I said, ‘I’d shove that lollipop up your nose.’