Retched and went back to sleep.

Woken the second time by Mother calling me to get up for church.

Groaned and went back to sleep.

Finally woke to the sounds of Julie moving around my room, getting her clothes on. ‘Lunch with Uncle Bert,’ she whispered, crouching next to me. ‘Gotta go.’

She tiptoed out and I thought I’d go back to sleep again, but I couldn’t. The events of last night seeped into my head. All I could think about was William. William, William, William. William and Delilah.

Downstairs was quiet. I wondered if they were all at church. When had Mother come back last night? Was Jack still there? Was William still next door?

My head felt as if someone had sliced the top off and replaced it with sawdust. If I left my eyes open for too long they began to dry out. Someone had been at them in the night with sandpaper. I tried to remember, but I think I’d only had one cup of Delilah Bite. There had been a moment of dizziness early on in the evening, but after that: nothing. So why did I feel so terrible now? Lack of sleep? Or William?

Tea started to seem the only thing for it, and I got out of bed – or rather off the floor – and made it downstairs.

I wasn’t alone, after all. Cyril and Marie were in the garden. And Jack and Mother were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. ‘Α-ha!’ Mother said brightly when she saw me. ‘Good evening?’

‘Is it evening already?’ I said.

‘I meant did you have a good evening?’

‘Yeah,’ I said non-committally, and went into the kitchen. I could just feel their raised eyebrows behind me. This wasn’t me. Some bolshy teenager had invaded my body.

When the kettle had boiled I slumped into the chair next to Jack, nursing my mug. ‘Still here?’ I said. Was he acting on my tip-off of the evening before?

‘Shouldn’t I be?’ he said. Mother laughed.

‘Oh God. Whatever,’ I said, and stomped upstairs.

I had a shower in our new Mr Spenced bathroom and felt a bit better. When I came out Jack was waiting on the landing. ‘You all right?’ he said. ‘You seem a bit…’

‘’Sfine,’ I said.

‘OK. Well, I’m off then –’ He turned to go.

‘Jack –’ I said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Did you sleep over?’

He laughed. ‘Yes, but she didn’t. You’re not the only one who spent a night on the tiles.’

‘Oh.’ That was disappointing. (And, if it meant she’d spent it with Mr Spence, disgusting.) Still, it was early days. I called after him, ‘Remember what I said, though.’

He was halfway down the stairs, but he came back up and ruffled my wet hair. He shook his head. ‘You just worry about yourself, little one,’ he said.

I got dressed and told Mother I was going next door. Cyril and Marie were at a friend’s and she was lying on the sofa having ‘a nice quiet afternoon’ – for which read hangover. The World at One was on the radio in the background. The newscaster said something about the end of the war being in sight. ‘We’ll have a chicken tonight, OK?’ Mother said. ‘A special chicken.’

I’d put on some of her lipstick. I didn’t know if William would still be at Delilah’s. That won’t last. Julie had said that, hadn’t she? And Julie usually knew about these things. Maybe it had ended already. I couldn’t believe Delilah really cared for him. He was just one of her games, part of her collection, another name for the Snog Log. So I wouldn’t be hurting her, would I, if I let him know how I felt? I kept replaying every nice thing William had ever said to me. The valentine card I’d been so rude about. I knew he liked me, so why did I feel so nervous?

Delilah’s house was… well, to say it was a mess would be putting it mildly. It looked and felt as if an army of Labradors had waded through a muddy pond, splashed through a sweet factory and then bounded in and shaken themselves on every surface. And then they’d tucked any valuables under their paws and legged it.

A half-hearted cleaning process was under way. Sam was in the hall, sweeping broken glass into a dustpan. ‘Hiya,’ she said when she saw me.

‘You all right?’ I said.

‘Yeah.’ She looked pale but alive. She’d probably had more sleep than the rest of us put together.

The furniture was back in the front room, and the doors to the back room were closed. There was a boy scrubbing the carpet, but it wasn’t William – it was the bloke from the Isle of Wight, the one who’d made the French-kissing comment. Cal, was it?

‘You’re supposed to do circles working in,’ I said. ‘The other way round you’re just spreading the stain.’

He looked up. ‘Oh, hello. Did you crash here too?’

‘No. I live next door.’

He stood up and looked at his watch. ‘I’d better be off soon. I think I’ll call a cab.’

I said it must be expensive getting a cab all the way to the Isle of Wight and he laughed and said, ‘I don’t live on the Isle of Wight. I live in Hammersmith. I just go there on holiday.’

‘Oh, I see.’

He was saying something else, but I was trying to work out if it was William’s voice I could hear in the kitchen.

‘Sorry?’

He said, ‘I’m sorry if I scared you off last night.’

‘You didn’t.’ It wasn’t William’s voice. It was too high.

‘But you have got very nice eyes.’

I was about to run away; that’s what the old Connie Pickles would have done. But something stopped me. Nice eyes! I have nice eyes! I grinned instead, a stupid grin, I’m sure, but he grinned back and – you know what? – it actually felt quite nice.

‘Connie! Connie! Help!! You’re here! Thank God!’ Delilah, passing the door, had spotted me. ‘They’ll be back in an hour. What am I going to do?’

I left Cal ringing for a cab, and followed her back down to the kitchen. William wasn’t there, but Sam’s brother was sitting at the kitchen table, looking miserable. At least he was alive. Delilah, rummaging around under the sink for a bucket, explained someone had nicked his iPod. ‘Yeah, and I know what they look like and everything, and I’m going to come to your school and get them,’ he squeaked.

‘But you didn’t have a chance to “get them” last night?’ I said.

‘Nah. I went up to her parents’ room to think about it and I… I fell asleep.’

‘I seem to be the only one who didn’t get a bed around here!’ sang Delilah happily.

The only evidence of William was in her face. She was having problems with the floor – the more water she applied, the stickier it seemed to get – but she wasn’t getting cross or panicked. She was laughing and fooling about. She’d had a shower and her hair was pulled up into a towel-turban. She was wearing the pink gown from Oasis that William had used that time to mop up the tea. For a girl who’d snogged three boys, caused two break-ups and drunk a gallon of mixed spirits, not to mention destroyed her parents’ house, she was looking remarkably cheerful.

I couldn’t stand it. I said, ‘Did you find Tanya’s earring?’

Her face fell. Her mouth twisted in anguish. ‘No. No. I reckon that cow who tried to hit me nicked it. William and I’ve looked everywhere. I thought I’d put this one back in her jewellery box and it’ll be ages before she notices and maybe she’ll think she lost it herself. William says –’

I interrupted. ‘And the picture in the hall?’

‘Don’t! And the bathroom lock’s broken.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s Durex all over the floor. And the Madagascan fertility symbol’s disappeared.’

‘I’m off.’ The boy from the Isle of Wight/Hammersmith poked his head round the corner. ‘Thanks for the party, Delilah. And, er, see you again, I hope… ‘He paused.

‘… Connie,’ I added for him.

‘Yeah. Connie.’

I should have left then too. I wanted to. I wanted to go round and find William. But I didn’t. I don’t know why. Guilt? Fear? That old Pickles sense of responsibility? Instead I rolled up my sleeves and helped out. If I was going to betray Delilah the least I could do was clear up first. Two of the girls with ironed blonde hair were vacuuming upstairs. Delilah went up to tidy her parents’ room. I attacked the puke stain on the stair carpet, scrubbed out the sink and opened all the windows to get rid of the smell. Then I heaved all the bin bags over my shoulder and took them down to the house at the end of the street where you never see anyone go in or out, and which has the bins out all week. I thought I might bump into William but I didn’t.

When I got back, the house looked much more presentable. It stank of Mr Muscle and it still looked ruffled, but at least Tanya and Marcus weren’t going to pack Delilah off to a young-offenders’ institution the moment they walked in the door.

It would take at least an hour to notice the missing Madagascan fertility symbol. And then they’d pack her off to a young-offenders’ institution.

Her friends with the ironed hair went, leaving just me, Sam and Sam’s little brother sitting at the kitchen table. Delilah had got dressed and jumped down the stairs effusive with thanks, calling me her ‘honey’ and her ‘bestest, bestest friend’. She is very generous like that. She doesn’t take people for granted. God, how I wished at that moment that she did. And then the doorbell went. Delilah squealed and ran to the kitchen window to check her reflection. She rubbed her teeth and had a quick gargle in the sink.

‘That’ll be him,’ she spluttered. ‘Let him in, Con. Go on.’

Behind me, I heard Sam say, ‘Who’s “him”?’ – the only one of us who didn’t know.

I opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, in the same trousers as the night before and a faded green T-shirt that made his eyes seem very blue. He didn’t look surprised to see me, but gave a lopsided sheepish smile. ‘Wotcha,’ he said.

The blood rushed to my face and then rushed away again. I stared at him. I think I swallowed. There was so much I wanted to say.

But he walked past me and jumped the steps to the kitchen. I could hear Delilah chattering away, and his own voice, deep and calm, asking after Sam’s brother’s iPod, being nice like he always is, like I’ve always taken for granted.

When I got down there he was sitting in the chair I’d vacated, and Delilah was perched on his knee, with her arms round his neck. I stood with my back against the cold, hard sink and I said something cold and hard like, ‘Good timing on the clearing-up front.’

Delilah said, ‘He helped. Only earlier, didn’t you, Will?’

‘You stayed the night, then?’

Delilah giggled. William said, ‘I sort of crashed. I’ve just been home for some kip.’

He put his hands on Delilah’s waist and gently lifted her, so he could stand up. ‘I’ve gotta go. I’m meeting my brother.’

Delilah took him to the door. When she came back I was sitting down. I wish she’d stayed all girly, but she was calm. Her eyes were wide with happiness and hope. ‘I really, really like him,’ she said in a normal voice, no theatrics. ‘I think he likes me, don’t you? It’s different this time. Connie, you’re my friend. Tell me truthfully, don’t you think this time it might work out? Do you think he might be my boyfriend?’

I looked into her face and told her that I thought it might, and that he probably would.

‘Cross your heart?’ she said.

I tried to be nice. Julie rang just before we ate. Now it’s all over with Ade, she’s interested in family life: hers and other people’s. (Is that what it’s like with boyfriends? They take you away, gradually, until you’re too far to go back?) She said she’d had a ‘heart-to-heart’ with Uncle Bert.

‘Fact is,’ she said, ‘we had nothing to do with any of it. Turns out it really was just French lessons. Bit of a flirt on the side, a few free dinners, but nothing serious. It only went on while Sue was away. As my mum says, he always has to have someone to cook his meals. We’re not the matchmakers we thought we were.’

‘But we did something, didn’t we?’

‘What?’

‘The guy from the lingerie shop. Victor Savonaire. I mean…’

‘What happened there, Connie?’

‘Well, nothing. But The Chemist. I invited him for dinner and…’

‘And?’

‘And…’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re right,’ I said, suddenly realizing the truth of the matter. It had been staring me in the face all along. I just hadn’t noticed. ‘We haven’t done a thing.’

I could hear Mother and Mr Spence laughing over the gravy in the kitchen, laughing in a way I haven’t heard her laugh for a long time. Sort of relaxed. Mr Spence: her choice. Not Bert, or Victor Savonaire, or John Leakey. Not Jack. It all seemed very sad – and very funny at the same time. It seems I hadn’t been in control at all. I wasn’t the wise old witch I thought I was. I was just a silly little girl, cooking up stories in my own head. I thought I knew everything. It turns out I couldn’t even see what was in front of me. I didn’t even know my own heart.

‘You all right, Con?’ Julie asked.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Bit tired.’ After that we had one of those nice, cosy chats about last night’s party. I know I hated it at the time, but in retrospect these things take on a different light. I was glad I’d gone. If only to have stories to talk about with my friends afterwards. I do love Julie.

I felt more cheerful when I hung up. And I was nice at supper. Mr Spence did his Donald Duck for Marie and gave Cyril a trick to help with his nine-times table, which he’s got a block on. You do something with your fingers. Say it’s three times nine? Well, hold out both your hands and put the third finger down on your left hand. Then count how many fingers you have on either side. Two on one side of the finger, seven on the other. Twenty-seven. Try it. It does actually work.

And then Mother mentioned the war being almost over at last and he said something I didn’t notice at the time, but I’ve been thinking about since. He said, ‘I know they’re saying it’s close to finished, but I reckon it’s only just beginning.’ And he didn’t look geeky at all when he said it. He looked sort of wise. Of course, five minutes later I saw him pinch Mother’s bottom in a really cheesy way, but you can’t have everything.

I thought I was wise. All along I thought I was wise. I’m sitting up in the bathroom now, with the cat stretched out on the floor next to me, and I realize how naive I’ve been. Everyone always says how grown-up I am. But I’m not, am I? I’m younger, in the sense of maturity, than almost anyone I know. At least Delilah, even at her worst, is on some sort of learning curve. But I’ve been standing back, thinking of myself as somehow superior, above it all. I don’t have a clue about what really matters. What was I doing thinking and worrying about Mother when I had my own life to think and worry about? Sometimes you have to learn these things the hard way. It’s taken losing William to make me realize that.