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think about it. Seriously.”

      “You mean …” I said it slowly, my mind already buzzing with possibilities. “You mean, whatever we want?”

      “Whatever you want,” agreed Mum. “Though I’d rather you didn’t ask for a wardrobe full of designer gear, or the latest techno-gadget. We’d like it to be something that’s really important to you. Something that’s going to last. Not just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

      She told us both to go away and put some thought into it.

      “And take your time! There’s no rush.”

      “But I’ve already—” began Nat.

      “I said, take your time,” said Mum. “When you’re both done thinking, we can have a family conference and see where we’re at.”

      “Have you decided yet?” said Nat.

      “No,” I said. It had only been a few hours. “I’m still thinking.”

      “I’ve decided. I knew immediately. I don’t need to think!”

      “Well, I do,” I said, “so if you’d just very kindly give me some peace and quiet, I might be able to get somewhere.”

      We were in our bedroom, Nat in her cubicle, me in mine. Mum had made curtains, which we could pull round our beds. We still had to share the wardrobe – and the dressing table, and the chest of drawers. We were supposed to have equal amounts of space, like half the wardrobe each, and half the dressing table, but Nat just had no idea of putting things away. Her clothes were everywhere, lying about in great festering heaps, along with empty crisp packets and chocolate wrappers. Really gross. Grown-ups are always going on about how teenagers turn their bedrooms into tips. Well, huh! They ought to start looking at eleven-year-olds, if you ask me.

      “Hey, Zoe!” Nat’s head came poking through the curtain.

      I said, “What?”

      “D’you think it’s OK if we tell people?”

      I wasn’t too sure about that. “Dunno,” I said. “Best ask Mum.”

      “Oh. OK.” She sounded reluctant. “If I must.” She was about to go off when her head came poking back in again. “You could always ask for skiing lessons.”

      “I don’t want skiing lessons!”

      Nat looked hurt. “You don’t have to snap, I’m only trying to be helpful! You wanted them last year. You and Sophie. You went on and on about them.”

      “That was when they had the Winter Olympics.”

      We’d watched them together. Me and Sophie. Sophie was my best friend ever! But last term she’d gone off to New Zealand with her mum and dad and I somehow didn’t fancy the idea of learning to ski all by myself. It was our thing; mine and Sophie’s. It wouldn’t be the same without her. Come to think of it, nothing was the same without Sophie.

      “So if you don’t want skiing lessons …”

      Omigod, I thought she’d gone!

      “How about –” her face was all scrunched and excited – “how about asking for a pig?”

      I said, “A pig?”

      “A dear little pot-bellied piggy. They’re so cute!”

      “But I don’t want a dear little pot-bellied piggy. You ask!”

      “I can’t. I’ve already decided. I’m just trying to give you some ideas!”

      I said, “I can find my own ideas, thank you very much.”

      Nat sighed. She didn’t actually say, “You are so mean at times,” but it was probably what she was thinking. She stood there, on my side of the curtain, fingering her phone. Obviously dying to start spreading the news.

      “I really don’t see why I couldn’t just tell Loo!”

      I said, “Cos Loo’s a bubblehead. And anyway, Mum’s already said we don’t want any publicity.”

      “But Loo’s my best friend! I bet you’d have told Sophie.”

      Maybe I might have, but that was because Sophie and I never had secrets. And Sophie wasn’t a bubblehead! She could be trusted.

      “I wish you’d just go away,” I said. “I’m trying to do some thinking here!”

      “But I—”

      “GO!”

      Nat went mumbling off, leaving me to rack my brains. You would think, if your mum and dad gave you the chance to have anything you want, you would be spoilt for choice. Like, there would be just so many things clamouring for attention you’d find it hard to know which one to pick. Not so! All the possibilities that had been swirling about inside my head suddenly burst like soap bubbles the minute I seriously considered any of them. What did I really want? What would I really like? “Something important,” Mum had said. Something that was going to last. I couldn’t think of a single solitary thing!

      I sat cross-legged on my bed, gazing at the posters pinned to the wall. Pop stars, rock groups. Jez Delaney … gorgeous Jez! The love of my life! Maybe I could talk Mum into getting me a ticket for his next gig? Except it was probably already sold out and, in any case, even I could see that going to a rock concert might not qualify as Something Important. Not in Mum’s eyes.

      So what did I want? What did I really really want? There had to be something!

      My gaze fell upon Gran’s old Enid Blyton books. They were all there, on the shelf. The Twins at St Clare’s, The Naughtiest Girl, Malory Towers, et cetera. I had read them over and over, especially the school stories. I’d grown out of them now, of course, but I still couldn’t bear to part with them. Mainly cos they’d belonged to Gran, but also cos I always used to feel that the characters were my friends. That I was there with them at St Clare’s, or Malory Towers. It had been my dream to go to boarding school! I’d even begged Mum, when I was, like, nine or ten, to let me go to one. We hadn’t been able to afford it then. But now that we had won the lottery …

      Yessss! I bounced off the bed. I knew what I wanted to do!

      “Right,” said Dad. “Moment of truth!”

      It was later that same day. Dad had come back from work and we were all sitting round the kitchen table having what Dad called a powwow.

      “Have you both had time to think?” said Mum.

      “I didn’t have to think,” boasted Nat. “I already knew!”

      “What about Zoe?”

      I said, “Yes, I’ve decided.”

      “Well, that was quick,” said Mum. “OK, if you’re sure, let’s get started. Your dad first!”

      I know Dad was every bit as excited as the rest of us. He is just not the sort of person to show his emotions. But even he couldn’t stop a big grin engulfing his face. He told us that he had already handed his notice in.

      “Couldn’t do it fast enough!”

      Dad had never really cared for his job. He was always telling me and Nat how important it was, if you possibly could, to find work that gives you satisfaction.

      “But he’s not going to be a gentleman of leisure,” said Mum. “Are you?”

      She looked across at Dad like she was really proud of him. Dad, suddenly going all bashful and un-Dad-like, agreed that he wasn’t.

      “Wouldn’t suit me, sitting around doing nothing.” He said he was going to carry on working, but not for the council. “For myself!”

      “He’s going to start up his own business,”

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