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there is a beauty course that didn’t look
too
bad. And it’s only four days a week, so I could work the other one, and Saturdays. I’ll try to get a full-time summer job in the meantime, so I can help out with the rent straight away.”
    â€œAnd I’ll write us a budget,” Grace offered. “There are lots of things we can do to save money. Like, it’ll be cheaper to walk to the big supermarket on the main road than keep going to Price Cutter for everything. And we don’t need the hot water on
all
the time.”
    Mum smiled then, a real smile this time. “I’m so proud of you girls,” she said. “I can’t tell you how proud… You’re right. Let’s think positive. If we can just get through this month, we’ll be okay.”
    But then came the knock at the door that made all of us go rigid.
    We didn’t have a month. We didn’t even have a week.
    Mum put her finger to her lips and we all fell silent, hardly daring to breathe.
    â€œI know you’re in there!” Mr. Vulmer shouted wheezily. “That talk about swanning off to some swanky hotel was all cobblers, wasn’t it? You load of princesses, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? Well, I’m warning you, I don’t care
who
you are, no one messes me about.”
    Grace clung to Mum, and Saff pulled a face at the front door, but I knew she was scared too.
    Weirdly I wasn’t, and then with a start I realized why. Part of me was still waiting for Dad to stride over, either give Mr. Vulmer the cash or send him away empty-handed, then shut the door, cheerfully call him an idiot and ask who fancies Indian takeaway for tea. But that didn’t happen, of course. And when I realized it wasn’t going to, I felt scared too.
    Daddy wasn’t coming to rescue his princesses.
    We’d have to save ourselves.
    â€œLucky for you lot I’m off to Malaga tomorrow,” the landlord was shouting. “I’ll be back this time next week though, with my keys, and if I don’t get my money then, you lot’ll be out on the street, and no I
won’t
be carrying your (
bleep
)ing cases for you.” Then we heard him blunder back down the stairs, muttering.
    We all sat still and silent for ages, until we were sure he’d gone.
    After getting so soaked in the morning, I was really desperate to have a bath that night, so once I’d cleaned it about a million times, I turned on the limescale-encrusted taps. Loads of steaming hot water came gushing out – that was something at least. Then I dug around in the suitcases for my special box of home-made body lotions and bath potions for some extra-special treats to cheer me up.
    It’s something I’ve always done, making my own beauty products. Mum started us off when we were little – I’d sit up on the kitchen counter, and Saff and Grace would be on step stools alongside it. We had matching pink-striped aprons, even Mum, and we’d all be measuring and mixing and extracting and juicing and peeling and melting and stirring and setting for whole afternoons. We used so many gorgeous ingredients – like citrus peel and cinnamon sticks for bath oil, almond shells and olive grain for body scrub, blueberries and honey for fresh face masks, avocado and aloe vera for body butters. We made seaweed wraps and vanilla candles and strawberry bath bombs, packed with rose petals. We filled the house with the scents of warm spice, zingy zest and juicy berries.
    Saff and Grace kind of lost interest when we moved to the Ealing house and they got their own separate hobbies and friends. Even Mum didn’t do so much once she could afford to buy any products she wanted. But I’ve always kept up with it and, of course, they all want to borrow my things, and for me to make them stuff. Em and Zo always asked for my bath foams and solid perfumes for their birthday and Christmas presents too, and I