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  ‘GIVE US A TWIRL!’ he shouted, wafting his hands in the air.

  Mum and I stood up immediately. Even if Dad was in a very good mood like today, the slightest thing could still upset him and make him turn.

  Mum twirled around, holding up her skirt prettily, pointing her toes. I twirled too. I whizzed round too fast as I was in such a hurry to get it over. I managed to trip over my own slippered feet and nearly fell headlong.

  ‘Whoopsie!’ said Dad, catching me. ‘Dear goodness, Beauty! You’re so clumsy! I think we’d better send you back to those dancing lessons.’

  My iced bun turned a somersault inside my tummy. Dad had sent me to ballet lessons when I was six. I was the oldest in the baby class. There were some tiny girls who were only three or four. They were all much better at dancing than I was. I couldn’t do bunny hops – I simply landed with a bump on my bottom. I couldn’t skip – my arms and legs went all wonky. I couldn’t point my toes properly – they wanted to point in, not out. And I couldn’t twirl gracefully to save my life.

  I stuck it out for a year, until Miss June the dancing teacher tactfully told Mum that I didn’t seem to be enjoying my dancing classes so perhaps it might be better if I tried another hobby.

  ‘Please don’t make me do ballet again, Dad!’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you want to learn to dance like a little fairy?’ said Dad.

  ‘Fairy elephant, more like,’ I said.

  Dad chuckled and ruffled my hair. He sat down in his big leather armchair and then pulled me onto his knee. He pulled Mum onto his other knee, as if we were both his little girls.

  ‘Hey, Gerry darling, did you get the planning permission for the Water Meadows project?’ Mum asked.

  ‘I’m still working on it, but it looks very likely,’ said Dad. ‘That’s what we need, two hundred spanking new, top-of-the-range Happy Homes with river views. They’ll make our fortune, Dilly, you wait and see.’

  ‘You’ve already made our fortune,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’ve worked hard for my girls, my wife, my daughter.’ Dad paused. ‘And my ex-wives and my layabout sons.’

  Mum gave me a little frown. That meant, Don’t say a word!

  I was fascinated by the first Mrs Cookson and the second Mrs Cookson and my three half-brothers, Gerry Junior, Mark and Ryan. When we’d all met at Gerry Junior’s wedding and Grandma’s funeral I’d loved feeling part of a great big family. But Dad didn’t seem to like any of them any more. He especially didn’t like giving them any money, even though there seemed heaps to go round. The first two Mrs Cooksons had their own Happy Homes and now Gerry Junior and his new wife Julie had their own Happy Home too.

  ‘So that makes them blooming lucky,’ Dad said. ‘I didn’t have that kind of start in life. I had to make my own way.’

  Dad had started off working on a building site at sixteen. He worked his way up, until he ended up buying the building firm. Then he branched out, becoming a property developer, building lots and lots of Happy Homes. There were starter Happy Homes for young couples, standard three-bedroom Happy Homes for ordinary families, and deluxe five-bedroom, two-bathroom Happy Homes for rich families.

  We used to live in a deluxe Happy Home, but now we’d moved to an even bigger, fancier home specially built for us. We had six bedrooms, three bathrooms and a special wetroom and a hot tub outside. I even had my own en suite bathroom, dusty rose to match my pink bedroom, with silver dolphin taps.

  Dad said I was the luckiest little girl in the world. He didn’t know of another child anywhere who had her own en suite bathroom. He kept asking me why I didn’t want to invite any of my friends from Lady Mary Mountbank for a sleepover. They could sleep in one of the twin beds with the dusty-rose silk coverlets patterned with sprigs of violets, sprawl on the pink and violet velvet cushions, comb their hair at my Venetian glass dressing table and admire every inch of my en suite bathroom.

  I hadn’t invited anyone so far. It made me turn dusty rose in the face to admit it, but I didn’t really have any proper friends. I did wonder if I dared ask Rhona to tea, but that would annoy Skye and make her meaner to me than ever. Maybe Rhona wouldn’t come anyway.

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted her to come myself. I’d probably feel dreadfully shy and not know what to say to her. What would we play for all those hours before bedtime? I liked reading when I was by myself but you couldn’t really read together. I liked painting but I had to do it in the kitchen with newspaper spread everywhere, long before Dad came home. I wasn’t supposed to do any painting whatsoever in case I spilled paint on the carpets.

  Dad didn’t even allow felt-tip pens in case I got marks on the cream sofas. I was always very careful but Rhona was a giggly girl who never sat still. What if she flung her arm out when she was painting and accidentally spattered the wallpaper? If Dad saw he’d get into a rage whether Rhona was here or not.

  I felt sick at the thought of Dad ranting in front of Rhona. I often cried because he scared me so. Perhaps he’d make Rhona cry too. Then she’d tell everyone at school. She’d definitely tell Skye because she was her best friend.

  I kept pretending to Dad that I’d simply forgotten to ask anyone for a sleepover. He seemed to have forgotten himself for the last few weeks . . . forgotten until this very moment!

  ‘You still haven’t had any of your friends to stay, Beauty,’ said Dad, jogging me on his knee as if I was a little baby.

  My heart started thudding. I nibbled my lip anxiously.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ said Dad, lightly tapping my mouth. He frowned at my teeth. ‘They’re sticking out more, Beauty. We’re definitely going to have to get you fitted out with braces.’

  ‘I don’t want braces,’ I mumbled.

  ‘You don’t want to end up looking like Bugs Bunny, do you?’ said Dad, pulling a silly rabbit face, making his own teeth protrude.

  ‘The dentist said to wait a year or so, darling,’ Mum said. ‘He’s not even sure Beauty really needs a brace.’

  ‘Nonsense! She needs perfect choppers, all girls do,’ said Dad. ‘Anyway, who’s your best friend at school, Beauty?’

  ‘I like Rhona, but she’s Skye’s friend, not really mine,’ I said.

  ‘Can’t you all be friends?’ said Dad. ‘Invite them both over. What about this Saturday?’

  I breathed out thankfully.

  ‘I can’t this Saturday, Dad. That’s when Rhona’s having her birthday party,’ I said.

  ‘And you’re going to this party?’

  ‘Well, she’s given me an invitation.’

  ‘Lovely. Well, we’d better get cracking organizing a party for your birthday!’

  I started nibbling my lip again.

  ‘Stop it!’ said Dad. ‘Yes, we’ll throw a really big bumper party for your birthday for every girl in your class, all your new Lady Mary Mountbank friends.’

  ‘Do I really have to have a party, Dad?’ I said desperately.

  ‘I’m not sure about a lot of over-excited children running round the house,’ Mum said quickly. She knew how Dad fussed so about the carpet and the cream sofas.

  ‘We won’t have them running riot here,’ said Dad. ‘We’ll take them out somewhere swish. Leave it to me, I’ll work on it. I want my Beauty to have a really fantastic birthday.’

  ‘It’s ever so kind of you, Dad,’ I gabbled, though my heart was sinking.

  I just had to hope he might somehow forget about it. I wasn’t sure many of the girls in my class would come, especially not Skye or Emily or

  Arabella. Or if they did, they’d all call me names the way they did in class.

  ‘What does my best girl want for her birthday present, eh?’ said Dad.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Well, think!’ said Dad. He tapped my forehead. ‘What’s going on inside that little noddle of yours, eh? I bet you’ve got some idea of what you’d really really like for a present.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Ah! I thought so,’ said Dad. ‘Come on,