'Well, it was, last week.'

'You never said! I would have got you a card. So how old are you, darling?'

We go all round the moon discussing me being eleven and Mrs Briggs being eighty-seven when all I want is to get my parcel! But eventually she lets me in and I pick up the huge Jiffy bag in her hall. I peer at the writing on the bag. I don't recognize it. It's not really heavy. You can still squash the bag, but there's definitely something inside. Thank goodness the postman didn't just leave it on the doorstep. It would have been nicked before his back was turned.

I thank Mrs Briggs and whizz back home to open it in private. It's so carefully taped up I lose patience and rip. Suddenly I'm holding a jacket, a beautiful leather jacket, soft as a kitten, beautifully styled, the most gorgeous jacket in the entire world. I stare at it, shaking, unable to believe it. I realize I've seen the jacket before. Oh my God, it's Sunset's jacket!

I pick it up properly to try it on and a letter flutters out. I slot my arms into the silkily lined sleeves and pull the jacket on. It fits perfectly, as if it were made for me. Then I pick up the letter and read. It is from Sunset. It's a lovely letter too. She did her best to ask Danny about me and she hopes the jacket will suit me.

I go to the bedroom and look at myself in Mum's mirror. Oh, it does suit me, it truly does! I look just like a celebrity! I pick up Mum's hairbrush and start singing, pretending it's a microphone. I can't wait for Mum to get home. Now there are two special things to tell.

The moment I hear the key in the door I go, 'Mum, Mum, wait till you hear!'

'Hey, darling! I've brought Louella back for a cup of tea.'

Oh rubbish, why did she have to do that? I whip the jacket off quick and stuff it under my pillow and then walk reluctantly into the living room. Louella has already sat herself down in my chair. She nods at me.

'How are you doing, Destiny?'

'Fine, thanks, Louella,' I say.

She nods sceptically. 'I hope you're not giving your mother cause for grief. She's always worry-worry-worry over you. One little scrappy girl gives her more worries than my four give me.'

'My Destiny's a total love. It's my silly fault if I worry about her,' says Mum. 'I'll go and put the kettle on.'

Louella glares at me. 'You should be making the tea for your mum, Destiny, a big girl like you. There she is, on her feet all day, caring for all those dear old souls. She needs a little care herself when she gets home.'

'I do make the tea sometimes. I'll do it now,' I say crossly.

'No, no, I'm fine. You two sit and chat,' Mum calls from the kitchen.

I don't want to chat to Louella and she doesn't look like she wants to chat either.

'Your poor mum's working herself to the bone,' she says. 'Skin and bone, that's all she is now. I keep telling her, you're working too hard, girl, always on the go. You need to take it easy, put a little flesh on those bones.'

Louella herself has more than enough flesh on hers. She's so fat she totally overflows my chair, her vast brightly patterned dress spread out around her. Her feet are wide apart, planted firmly. Pop socks and sandals are so not a good look.

'How's school then, Destiny?' she asks. 'You working hard?'

I shrug.

'Staying out of trouble?'

She's got such a cheek. Her twin boys, Adam and Denton, are only in Year Three and yet they're already famous throughout the whole Juniors for getting into trouble. They might hold hands and blink their big eyes at their mum and deny everything, pretending they've been picked on, but they're incredibly bad. Just last week they hid in a wheelie bin and jumped up at one of the dinner ladies and nearly gave her a heart attack, and the week before that they liberated the Year Three classroom gerbils in the girls' toilets. Her middle child, Jacob, is one of the most feared Speedos even though he's only nine. Her oldest, Cherie, who's twelve, goes round with this other girl in Year Seven and I've seen them wearing really tight tops and short skirts, both looking at least sixteen, going out as if they're looking for trouble.

Louella has no idea. She only sees her kids when they're all neat as ninepence and in Louella-approved outfits, school uniform or Sunday best, with white socks and highly polished shoes.

'I'm not in any kind of trouble,' I say.

I so want to tell her that Mr Roberts and Mrs Avery treated me like a total wonder-child today, but I don't want to tell her before Mum.

Oh, Mum, come back. How long does it take to make a cup of tea? Louella is looking all round the living room, nosy as anything. She shakes her head at the Danny posters.

'Your mum and her Danny! I don't know what she sees in him myself. So scruffy and so old. If she must go for one of these golden oldies, why not plump for Cliff? He's always so smartly dressed,' Louella chunters. 'And does she really need all these posters? She could get some really good pictures at a car boot and they'd give the room a bit of style.'

'This is our style,' I say, even though I don't like the posters now. I don't like Louella either but I can't resist asking her: 'These Danny pictures look at them, Louella. Does he remind you of anyone?' I say, and I jut my chin and angle my own head in a Danny pose.

I want her to slap her huge thigh and exclaim, 'Oh my Lord, Destiny, it's you, you're the spitting image!' even though I'll deny it because we're not telling anyone, and definitely not Louella. But she doesn't seem to be struck by any revelation.

'He just looks like all those other hairy old rockers,' she says dismissively. 'I wouldn't even know what he sings like.'

'I'll put on one of his CDs if you want,' I tease her. 'Nice and loud.'

'No, thank you! I've got more respect for my ears,' she says. 'You want to listen to some proper singing, Destiny. You come along to our church on a Sunday and listen to our choir. They're so stirring they'll send shivers down your back.'

'We don't go to church.'

'It would do you the power of good and you'd make lots of friends there, you and your mum. You two need to get out and mix more. It's so sad you've no friends, no family.'

'We've got each other. We're fine,' I say indignantly.

I long to push her right off my chair. What right does she have to barge in here and criticize? I leave the room in a temper and go and find Mum. She's just standing there in the kitchen. The kettle's boiled, but she's not making any attempt to pour it. She's leaning against the draining board, biting her lip.

'Mum?'

She jumps, flips the switch on the kettle, and starts throwing tea bags into mugs. When the kettle starts bubbling she whispers, 'Were you being rude to Louella?'

'She's being rude to me!'

'Shh or she'll hear! I wish you'd make an effort with her. She's a truly good woman. She'd do anything to help me.'

'That doesn't mean I have to like her.'

'Oh, Destiny, stop it,' Mum says. She looks so sad and I can't bear it.

'I've got something lovely to tell you, Mum. Two things,' I say quickly.

'What?'

'No, wait till she's gone, then I can tell you properly.'

Mum sighs. I hate the way her face goes when she breathes in sharply. It looks as if her cheekbones are going to burst through her skin. She's so thin now you can work out exactly what she'd look like as a skull.

I get the biscuit tin and start buttering slices of malt loaf too.

'Are you peckish, babe?' asks Mum.

'No, this is for you. You need to eat more, Mum.'

I take the plates into the living room, one holding Hobnobs, the other malt bread, but Mum just nibbles one crust. Louella hoovers up both platefuls, big fat fingers reaching out to the plate, snatch, gollop, again and again.

Mum desperately tries to make conversation. She tells me about the football birthday party Louella's planning for the twins, the bridesmaid's dress she's making for Cherie, her plans to take Jacob to judo classes, praising her as if she's a candidate for the Mother of the Year awards. I remain unimpressed.

Mum changes tack and tells Louella how well I'm doing at school. She says I'm going to sing my own Danny Kilman song at the end-of-term concert. I twitch to tell her that they think my voice is great, but I'm not saying it in front of Louella she would only spoil it.

I sit glowering, willing her to go. At last she heaves herself to her feet, nearly tipping my chair over.

'Goodbye, Destiny. You be a good girl for your mother now. And if you get lonely you come round and play with my four, do you understand?'

I understand that if I went round to Louella's, the twins would plague me with tricks, Jacob would set all the Speedos against me and Cherie would squash me flat.

'Goodbye, Louella,' I say firmly, almost pushing her through the door. When she's gone at last I lean on the back of the door, doing a pantomime Phew!

'Destiny! Stop that! Why are you being so horrible? Louella's a lovely woman,' Mum says, frowning at me.

'Mum, she's awful. She's so mean and bossy and full of herself. I don't get what you see in her.'

'She's a good friend. If anything ever happened she'd be a good friend to you too. She'd look after you like one of her own, I'm sure of it,' Mum says.

I stare at her. 'Mum? What do you mean, if anything happened? I can look after myself! I'd sooner poke my eyes out than stay with Louella. Anyway, let's forget her. Wait till you hear! Sunset's written to me and you'll never guess what she's given me as a present!'

Mum clutches me. 'You're not winding me up, are you, darling?'

'No, it's in my room. Come and see! I've been dying to show you, but you would go and lumber us with Louella.'

I tug her into the bedroom, pull the leather jacket out from under my pillow where I'd hidden it and slip it on.

Mum gapes at me. 'Oh, darling! It's really Sunset's own jacket. We've seen her wearing it in all the mags!'

'I know. I told her I liked it when we saw her. She's sent it specially with this letter look.'

'This is what I've always dreamed about!' says Mum, her eyes scanning the letter. 'Oh, Destiny, she's tried to tell Danny, she's going to try again. Oh, bless the child.'

'There! Isn't it a friendly letter? That stupid Louella was going on about us not having any friends. She doesn't have famous celebrities who are friends and relations. Only I want you to keep in with her for Friday the eighteenth of July just to cover you if you need to work late at all and I hope you can get out of your shift at the Dog and Fox too because you have a very important date, Kate Williams.'

'Do I? What?'

'You are coming to Bilefield's Got Talent and guess who is going to be top of the bill? Mr Roberts's new singing sensation me!'

I grab the hairbrush and start singing Destiny, putting my heart and soul into it. Mum watches, hands clenched, mouthing the words along with me. When I've finished she bursts into tears.

'Mum? I wasn't that bad, was I?'

'You were wonderful, but I shouldn't tell you that, you'll get big-headed.'

'No, no, tell me heaps of stuff. I want to feel great! Do you think I've got a chance of winning then?'

'If you don't win I'll want to know the reason why!' says Mum. 'Now, I'd better get the supper on. I'll whizz the vacuum round too Louella pointed out the carpet was all over fluff.'

'Louella! Look, I'll do the vacuuming if we really have to.'

'No, you get your homework done and you'll need to write a really nice thank-you letter to Sunset. I can't get over her sending you her jacket.' Mum holds it up admiringly. 'It's a real beauty, isn't it? Imagine what it would fetch on eBay. Sunset Kilman's very own jacket.'

'Mum, we're not putting it on eBay, it's mine.'

'Better not wear it on the estate, pet. One of them kids will nick it off you as soon as look at you.'

'I won't wear it outdoors, I'm not daft. I'll wear it indoors. Like right now!'

I slip it on and then write my letter to Sunset.

Dear Sunset,

Thank you very very very much for the leather

jacket. I absolutely LOVE it. I can't believe you

could just parcel it up and send it to me. It fits

me just perfectly too.

It was good of you to try so hard to ask your

dad our dad! about me. I expect it's an