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tell me why.’
    â€˜Yes, I heard her. I hoped she might have cheered up a bit.’
    â€˜You knew she was in that mood and you let me go in anyway? I could have been turned into a frog! What’s the matter with her?’
    Ben shrugged. ‘Dad, grandad. Stuff like that.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Kirsty sighed. ‘I’d better go home now. They’ll be wondering where I am. Will you call me tomorrow? We can decide what to do next.’
    â€˜Sure. I might talk to Dawn again later,’ Ben said.
    Kirsty shrugged. ‘I don’t think Dawn will talk to you. But try if you want to.’
    â€˜You know, Kirsty, Dawn’s not as tough as she makes out.’
    â€˜She should try being nicer to people,’ snorted Kirsty.

    Later that evening, Kirsty crouched down on the top stair, outside Dad’s bedroom. Mum was downstairs, washing up after tea. Dad was in his room. He had eaten off a tray. Kirsty shuffled closer to the door, held her breath and listened. There was no sound coming from Dad’s room. She laid her palm flat on the wood and stroked it softly. Dad hadn’t come out of his room for days. She had carried the tray of food into his room earlier and he had hardly said a word to her. The room had been dark, with no lights on at all. He hadn’t even said thank you when she put the tray down on his bedside table. He always said thank you! One time, he’d even said thank you to a cash machine! Kirsty let her hand rest on the door handle. Was Dad ever going to come out? Was he properly ill, like grandad had been?
    Downstairs, the phone rang. It was probably someone calling to find out when Dad was coming to finish building their kitchen. Mum had spoken to a lot of them recently. Kirsty heard Mum answer it, but then she called upstairs, ‘Kirsty, it’s for you.’ Kirsty turned away from the bedroom door and ran down.
    â€˜Kirsty?’ It was Ben calling.
    Kirsty cradled the phone against her ear. ‘Hello. Is everything OK?’
    â€˜Listen – I can’t talk long. I’ve done something stupid. I couldn’t help it. I told my mum what’s going on, and, anyway, she wants to help. Sorry. But, she says she can help. Can you come over after school tomorrow?’
    â€˜Yes, I suppose so. What’s she going to do?’
    â€˜Dunno. Just come over and we’ll find out.’
    â€˜OK,’ Kirsty said. She gently dropped the receiver back into place. Mum was still in the kitchen, humming to herself. Kirsty smiled. Ben was on her side, whatever happened. And perhaps he’d let her play with his cool TV tomorrow.

Wednesday

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    Chapter 10
    â€˜Juice?’ Angela said. She put a glass of pink grapefruit crush down on a coaster in front of Kirsty. The juice was the same colour as Angela’s painted fingernails.
    â€˜Thanks,’ Kirsty whispered. She took a sip. It was so sharp it stung her mouth. Her eyes watered as she forced it down.
    â€˜Right.’ Angela swished into one of the leather chairs that stood like sentries around the dining table. ‘Ben has told me all about your little problem. Your dad putting his head in the sand again, is he?’
    Kirsty frowned but didn’t say anything. Ben looked down at his hands, clamped in his lap.
    Angela smiled a TV presenter smile at them both. ‘My dears, you should have come to me in the first place. Your father doesn’t like to rock the boat. If you want to keep your grandad’s allotment, you need someone effective on your side. Darlings, I’ve been getting my own way for years now. I’m a professional!’ Angela laughed, a tinkly sound like a wind chime.
    Ben seemed to curl deeper into his chair. Kirsty sat up straighter. This was really interesting – an adult on her side might be just what she needed! ‘Do you really think you can help?’ Kirsty asked.
    Angela waved her arm in the air, as though she were bashing aside any