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  ' M i r a n d a M i r a n d a M i r a n d a . Hey, maybe she's your type, Sylvie,' said Carl. 'Do you fancy her?'

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  'Shut up!' I said. I felt my cheeks going scarlet as I remembered the girl in the shop.

  'Syl? I didn't mean it. Anyway. Look. Do you t h i n k Miranda would like to come bowling some time?'

  I stared at Carl. 'You w a n t to go bowling w i t h Miranda?' I repeated.

  'Not just her. Us. We could go one Friday night.'

  T h e three of us?'

  'Well. I could get one of t h e guys from school to come too. Maybe.'

  'Which guy?'

  'I don't know. Whoever w a n t s to come.' Carl coughed and sat up. 'Paul was saying he likes going bowling. Maybe he could come.'

  'Paul t h e football guy?'

  'Yeah. Him.'

  I w e n t a n d s a t down by Carl's giraffe, stroking h e r long soft droopy neck. It was so strange. It was all happening j u s t as Miranda h a d suggested. P e r h a p s she really was an enchantress like h e r Glassworld counterpart?

  Why was Carl inviting h e r if he didn't like her?

  And why on e a r t h was he suggesting bowling?

  'You don't like bowling,' I said.

  'I t h i n k it'll be fun.'

  'You h a t e d it t h a t time you went with Jake.'

  'Yeah, well, I h a t e a n y t h i n g I do w i t h Jake,' said Carl. He stretched. 'So. This Friday?

  You and Miranda, Paul and me?'

  'OK.'

  'Great.' Carl smiled at me. It w a s a 113

  d e v a s t a t i n g l y sweet smile, his brown eyes shining. I stopped puzzling over everything and smiled back.

  'Now I really must get on with homework,'

  Carl said gently, getting his school bag and flipping through it for textbooks and jotters.

  'You always have so much homework,' I said, sighing.

  'You always have so little,' said Carl. 'And even then you don't always do it.'

  'I haven't got any this evening. I don't even know w h a t we got set, on account of the fact Miranda and I played t r u a n t this afternoon.'

  I knew t h a t would stop him in his tracks and divert him from his homework. I told him the whole story of our afternoon adventure. Carl looked r e l u c t a n t l y impressed. We'd often fantasized about playing t r u a n t when we were at school together. We'd even plotted the best way to do it and planned w h a t we would do together on our snatched day of freedom. We'd never quite managed to do it.

  'Miranda's got a lot of bottle,' said Carl. 'Still, better not get too carried away. You don't want to get into too much trouble.'

  'Lucy t h i n k s I'll get expelled.'

  'Oh well, Lucy would.'

  'I t h i n k we've broken friends, Lucy and me,' I said, nursing the giraffe.

  Well, that's cool, isn't it? Because you've got Miranda now.'

  'Yes. She said she w a n t s to be my best friend.

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  But you know w h a t Miranda's like, Carl. You don't really know where you are with her. She could j u s t as easily stop being your friend and become your worst enemy, and t h e n where would I be?' I said, clutching the giraffe close to my chest.

  'You'd be where you always are, best friends with me,' said Carl.

  He reached out a n d we did our special best-friends clasp. I wanted to h a n g onto his h a n d b u t he gently disentangled his fingers and opened up his school books. I sat cross-legged watching him work for a few minutes and then I went home.

  M u m was j u s t coming down t h e road, struggling with shopping. I r a n to help her, feeling guilty.

  'I thought we were going to Tesco on Sunday morning when I can help,' I said, hauling flimsy plastic shopping bags indoors.

  'Hey, hey, careful, there's eggs in t h a t one.

  Don't try to carry t h e m all, you'll h u r t yourself We struggled together down t h e hall into the kitchen and tumbled all the bags down on t h e floor. Mum switched on the kettle and started unpacking everything, putting food in t h e fridge and cupboards. I nicked a b a n a n a and t h e n backed away towards the door.

  'No, don't slope off, Sylvie. I w a n t to talk to you,' said Mum ominously.

  I froze, holding my b a n a n a in mid-air. I chewed my first mouthful but I seemed to have 115

  lost the ability to swallow. Had they noticed I wasn't at school a n d phoned M u m at t h e building society? Maybe some nosy neighbour h a d spotted me out with Miranda? Perhaps the shop where we'd tried on the vest tops h a d found out our names and reported us?

  I stood still, clutching the stupid banana.

  ' B a n a n a s a r e considered monkey food, b u t monkeys actually get severe t u m m y upsets if they eat lots of bananas,' I gabbled, trying to distract her. I launched into a ludicrous riff on b a n a n a s , from t h e i r excellent p o t a s s i u m content to their role in slapstick comedy, while Mum made us a cup of tea. Then she sat down at the table a n d beckoned me to join her. I still kept up the banana-gabble, picking off all the stringy bits and whittling it with a knife, turning it into a long white woman.

  'Look, don't mess about with it, eat it! That bunch cost ninety-nine pee. It's meant to nourish you. It's not blooming playdough,' said Mum.

  I put down the b a n a n a and knife. Mum didn't sound cross, exactly. She would be extremely cross if she knew I'd bunked off school. She couldn't know. So w h a t was this all about? I took a quick peep at her. She was glancing at me equally furtively. We both giggled uneasily.

  Mum was bright-eyed and very pink, as if a fresh wind was blowing through the kitchen.

  'I'm thinking of going out Sunday morning, Syl,' she said in a sudden blurt. 'I didn't t h i n k you'd mind. You can have a lie-in a n d t h e n go 116

  round to Carl's. And I was wondering if it would be OK for you to have Sunday lunch there too.'

  Jules says it's fine with her. She's doing a roast so there'll be heaps for everyone.'

  'So where are you going, Mum?' I asked, bewildered.

  'I thought I might go swimming,' said Mum.

  I stared at her. I'd never known Mum go swimming in her life before. I didn't even t h i n k she h a d a swimming costume. The whole world was going crazy. F i r s t Carl w a n t e d to go bowling, now Mum wanted to go swimming. Was Lucy going to take up lap dancing? Would Miranda join the church choir?

  'Can you swim, Mum?' I said.

  'Yes. Well. I used to be able to. I can do breast stroke OK.'

  Mum did little swimming movements with her hands. She looked nervous. I imagined her, pale and podgy, being splashed by a lot of screaming kids.

  'I'll come w i t h you, Mum. What's t h i s swimming idea then? Do you w a n t to get fit or something?'

  'No, it's .. . "or something",' said Mum. 'I'm not going to the local baths, it's this club up in London. Well, I think I am. Maybe it's a totally ludicrous idea and I'll give up on it altogether.'

  She put h e r h a n d s over h e r face, shaking h e r head. 'I t h i n k I've gone a bit mad. I know I'm acting crazy. I j u s t can't help it though. I'm so sick of being sensible.' She made an odd little 117

  noise. I wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.

  'Mum?' I gently prised her hands away from her face.

  She smiled at me, though her eyes were wet.

  'The thing is, Sylvie, I'm seeing this m a n on S u n d a y '

  'Goodness!' I said. 'Why? Who is it? Some guy at work?'

  'Do me a favour! They're all young enough to be my sons! No, this guy – look, swear not to tell anyone, not even Carl?'

  'OK.'

  'I haven't actually met him yet but I talk to him on the Internet.'

  'Mum':

  'Don't look so shocked. It's not like one of those weird chat rooms. It's a website called

  "Not Waving But Drowning". I read about it somewhere and t h e n I looked it up. It's a kind of humorous helpline thing.'

  'About drowning? You're not going swimming!'