A week without Amma passes by feeling like an entire month. Everyone at home pitches in to make it run smoothly, but we’re all wearing our game faces. I take over cooking responsibilities after Shais cremates beans on toast and tries to pass it off as something she saw on The Great British Bake Off. Sometimes Dad orders takeaways, but they’re too expensive and never match up to Amma’s cooking. The only silver lining is not having to see Imran at school as I’m too busy getting my homework done in the library so I can get on with the housework when I get home.

The following week, I see DedManz in hysterics, passing Imran’s phone around at lunchtime. I wonder if Chris’s shaving fail got the full meme treatment.

‘What’s good?’ I say, making with the daps.

‘My Becky’s been busy with the Thot Filter,’ Imran says, grinning from ear to ear.

I glance at the screen and see a girl morphed into doll-like cuteness by a filter. The pouting girl is Kelly.

‘I don’t get it,’ I say, sweat beading my brow. ‘How does that make her a thot, though? Everyone uses that filter.’

‘My yute,’ Imran says haughtily. ‘That filter makes ugly girls look buff. Only thots do shit like that.’

I shake my head, my cheeks buzzing. ‘Why you stalking her Insta anyway?’

‘Cos man’s going to get jiggy with this piggy!’ Imran laughs loudly.

Daevon sees my expression and taps Imran. ‘Stop it, fam.’

Imran glares at him. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’

‘Come on, man. You know the girl is Ilyas’s mate …’

‘Bros before hoes,’ Imran intones, pounding the table with knuckles of stone. ‘Number one rule of DedManz.’

Noah looks at me with disgust. ‘Why you making friends with dumbass girls anyway?’

‘Kelly’s not dumb,’ I reply, my lip curling. ‘She gets nines for everything, and she’s going Cambridge, innit? And anyway, girls always get better exam resul—’

‘Bitch, you gay?!’ says Noah, slapping my face.

Imran turns to look at me with amusement. ‘What is it with you and Becky-with-the-bad-hair, anyway?’

‘Her name’s Kelly.’ Naming my friend gives her back her dignity. ‘She gives me a hand with my writing.’

‘Yeah? Well she’s gonna give me two hands with my wanking.’

Noah and Imran boom with laughter. Daevon shakes his head and mouths, Go.

I take my cue and leave, my heart thudding in my chest.

At the end of the day, I’m about to ride out of the school gates when I hear a sound like a shire horse galloping behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see it’s Kelly.

‘Ilyas!’ she says, puffing to a halt as I squeeze the brakes. ‘Wanna go down the cafe and talk Big Bad Waf?’

I should say no, that I have to get on with the tarka daal and make the roti. But, honestly, I miss being fifteen instead of fifty.

‘Sure!’ I say, hoping off my bike so we can walk together.

‘So I’ve got a script,’ she tells me, trying to catch her breath.

‘I thought you were writing the prologue.’

‘I was. My ideas snowballed, and I couldn’t stop! I tried to stay faithful to your vision of her, but I’ve added a few feminist touches. Let’s have a read through and see how we feel.’

‘Cool!’ I say. ‘Then I can get on with the layouts and panels and that.’

Once we reach the front of the queue, Kelly orders us hot-spiced apple drinks, popcorn cookies and a lemon tart each.

‘Penny for your thoughts!’ she says, spreading the goodies on the table between us. ‘Ugh! I sound like Mum.’

‘Ain’t nothing wrong with that,’ I say, grabbing a cookie.

‘You’ve met my mother. You know this is not true.’ She cuts her tart with a fork, flavouring the air with the zest of lemons. ‘She found the pizza boxes in the bin and asked me if I had you over while she was out. So I said yes, and she went very quiet.’

‘Does she hate me?’

She pauses to look at her phone and sniggers at a message.

I can’t help but wonder who it’s from.

‘I think she preferred it when you were Jade or Melanie or even Chris.’ She pulls a face, and it’s so unselfconscious, it makes me laugh. ‘I haven’t even met your mum yet. Hint, hint!’

‘Amma’s gone Pakistan,’ I say glumly. ‘She went to be with her sister before she loses her memory. You know – from dementia.’

Kelly pauses, trying to figure out whether I’m being serious or if this is just a very bad joke. ‘Sorry. Why didn’t you tell me this before? Wait – doesn’t dementia only happen to really old people?’

‘I can’t right now,’ I say, feeling my throat sealing up like an allergic reaction.

She studies me, and I drop my eyes. They’re playing a song on the radio that I thought was going to have a good beat but is lacking. A woman is telling her giggling mate that she’s going to dump her boyfriend if he buys her any more ‘old lady’ perfume for Christmas. Outside, a Scottish terrier is yapping at a surprised bull mastiff, while its owner stares through the window, licking his lips.

‘When life gives you lemons,’ Kelly says, pushing my plate towards me, ‘eat lemon tarts.’

I smile and take a bite.

She grins. ‘So here’s what I was thinking about Big Bad Waf …’