Mum tried to act as if nothing were wrong the next morning. She wouldn't talk about the lump. She kept it up for days, pretending she didn't have a worry in the world. She sang loudly all round the flat but she wasn't fooling anyone, not even Kendall.

One night I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. I walked into the bathroom. Mum was in there, nightie in her hand, staring at herself in the mirror. She had her head tilted, hands on her hips, breasts stuck right out as if she were posing for a glamour photo. She had a silly smile on her face but there were tears trickling down her cheeks.

She gasped when she saw me and covered her chest with her arms. I wondered if the lump stuck out and looked scary.

'Knock, can't you?' Mum said crossly, turning her back on me and tugging her nightie over her head.

'Mum, are you going to go to that clinic?'

'Nope.'

'But what if the lump gets bigger? What if-?'

'Just shut up about it, Jayni.'

'Lola Rose,' I whispered.

'Yeah, Lola Rose, whatever. Just go back to bed, now.'

So I went back to bed even though I badly needed to pee. I hunched up, holding myself, wishing I knew what to do.

I hadn't told Harpreet. I'd let her burble on about babies. I didn't want to tell her about the lump because it was so scary. I didn't want to make it seem real. But it was getting so I couldn't think of anything else. Harpreet caught me crying in the school toilets and kept on at me until I told her why.

'Will you swear not to tell anyone?'

Harpreet swore solemnly on her little sister's life. 'What is it, Lola Rose? Is it about the baby?'

'There isn't a baby,' I said.

Harpreet blinked at me with her beautiful eyes. 'Did she lose it?' she whispered.

'No, she was never having a baby. You got it all wrong. She's . . . she's got this lump. Here.' I gestured in the air above my own flat chest.

'Oh help,' said Harpreet. 'Is it cancer?'

I jumped as if she'd said a very bad swear word. No one had dared say it before.

'I don't know. She's supposed to go to this hospital clinic to find out. But she says she's not going.'

'She'll have to go! Is she nuts?'

'She's always been a little bit nuts about stuff like that.' I washed my hands in the basin very slowly, rubbing the soap until it made bubbles.

'My great-auntie had breast cancer,' said Harpreet.

'Did she get better?'

There was a horrible pause. I rubbed and rubbed my hands until they wore white lather gloves.

'Well, I don't want to say this, Lola Rose, but actually she died.'

I clasped my soapy hands.

'But she was much older than your mum.'

'Does that make a difference?'

'Well, it's bound to. My great-auntie was an old lady. And she had all these strokes too. That's how she got the cancer my mum said. She had a fall and hit her chest. She was bruised all over. And then she got the cancer.'

I stopped still, thinking about my mum's bruised breasts. 'Is that how you get breast cancer?' I whispered. 'Could you get it if someone hits you hard?'

'Well. Maybe. I don't know. It's just what my mum says and she's not always right. Oh Lola Rose, don't cry again.'

'I'm not,' I said. I knew Harpreet was totally wrong. But I still didn't like her saying it. I rubbed my eyes fiercely and then screamed as the soap stung them.

Harpreet had to slosh water in my face and rub the soap away with the hem of her school skirt. It hurt horribly but I didn't really care. Harpreet put her arms round me when she'd got the soap off.

'I bet your mum doesn't have cancer at all, Lola Rose. It'll just be some silly old lump that doesn't mean anything.'

'That's what Jake says. But he says Mum should still go and get the lump taken out.'

'Well, obviously.'

'What do you think will happen if she doesn't? Will the lump get bigger and bigger and bigger?' I saw an awful image of Mum with one breast blowing up like a balloon, all warty and revolting.

'Maybe,' said Harpreet. 'Don't look so scared though. Your mum will be all right, honest.'

'Do you promise?' I said foolishly, as if Harpreet was a medical expert and a fortune teller.

'I promise promise promise,' said Harpreet firmly.

Mum was out when Kendall and I got back from school.

'Has she gone to the hospital?' I asked Jake.

'You know she won't go near the place. She's mad if you ask me,' said Jake. He had Mum's make-up mirror propped up in front of him, so he could draw himself. He stopped, looked at the piece of paper, sighed and crumpled it up. He started on a fresh page, screwing up his eyes to look at himself.

'Let's play on the computer, Jake,' said Kendall, tugging at his arm.

'Leave off, mate. No, the computer's stuffed. You've been mucking about on it, haven't you?'

'No!' said Kendall. 'Well. Not much. You can fix it, Jake. You always fix it.'

'I can't fix it this time,' said Jake. 'Will you leave off, Kendall, you're jogging me.'

Kendall's face crumpled.

'Come on, Kendall, I'll see if I can get the computer working,' I said, switching it on, though I knew zilch about boring old computers.

'It's stuffed, I tell you,' said Jake, switching it off again.

'Well, couldn't you just play with Kendall for two minutes? Look, he's crying.'

'He's always bawling,' said Jake. 'I've never known such a crybaby. I've got this portrait assignment, OK? I'm late handing it in as it is. Very very late. You do realize I've hardly set foot in college since I met your mum?' He said it as if we'd sellotaped him to the chair.

'You could do Kendall's portrait, couldn't you? Or mine? Look!' I copied one of Mum's favourite poses, head tilted up, mouth slightly open, chest thrust forward, hand on hip, one knee slightly bent.

'For God's sake,' said Jake cruelly.

I rushed off to the bathroom, not wanting Jake to call me a crybaby too. 'I hate him,' I muttered, hugging myself.

I wanted my mum.

She didn't come back for tea. Jake didn't seem to care too much. They'd obviously had another row. He went on moodily sketching until way past tea time. I made baked beans on toast for Kendall and me. I didn't make Jake anything to show I was mad at him.

'Mum will be late for her evening shift down the pub,' I said.

'That's her look-out,' said Jake. 'As if I care.'

'Why are you being so horrible?'

'Look, it's not me. I'm not the one that's changed. This is all getting so heavy.'

'Mum can't help having this lump.'

'Yeah, but she won't deal with it like any normal woman. She has to make all this into such a drama. It's probably nothing. Women have lumps all the time, it doesn't mean it's it's-'

'Cancer,' I said.

'What's cancer?' said Kendall.

'It's an illness,' said Jake.

Kendall paused, pushing baked beans from one side of his plate to the other. 'Is Mum really sick?'

'Sick in the head, more like,' said Jake.

'She's sick in the head putting up with you,' I said. I golloped my baked beans and ate Kendall's leftovers too. I still felt empty so I ran my finger round the baked bean tin to lick up the juice.

'Don't do that, you'll cut yourself,' said Jake.

I took no notice and then caught my finger on the jagged edge of the tin. 'Ouch!'

'You idiot,' said Jake. 'I told you.'

He held my throbbing finger under the cold tap and then wrapped it up in one of Mum's scarves because we didn't have a bandage or a hankie.

'Mum will create if I get blood on it,' I said.

'Tough,' said Jake. 'She should be here to look after you.'

'Don't you love her any more, Jake?'

He tied the scarf in a neat bow, frowning. 'Look, I never said I loved your mum. I mean, it's been great she can be so cute and silly and funny when she's not in one of her moods. But this was never like a for ever thing.'

I pulled away from him so abruptly that the scarf unravelled. 'Mum thinks it's for ever.'

'You could have fooled me. You should have heard the things she said to me this afternoon,' said Jake sulkily. 'Watch out, you'll make your finger bleed again. Give it here.'

'I'll do it,' I said, fiddling with the end of the scarf. 'I knew you two had had a row.'

'Your mum's certainly got a big mouth on her,' said Jake. 'Was she that lippy with your dad, eh?'

I stood still. I pressed my lips together.

'What is it with your dad?' said Jake. 'Your mum gets that exact expression if I ever mention him.'

'Yeah. Well. We don't talk about him.'

'You kids don't get to see him ever?' Jake looked over at Kendall, who was sitting in the corner, muttering to George. 'Kendall misses him a lot, you know. I guess that's why he's all over me.'

'He likes you. He thought you were for ever too. Like a new dad.'

'You must be joking! I'm not old enough to be a dad. I'm only twenty, for God's sake.'

'My mum had me when she was seventeen. Jake, where is she? Do you think she's gone straight to the pub to do her shift?'

'I tell you, I don't know. She just went storming out. She's lucky I didn't do the same. What would you kids have done then, eh?'

'We'd be fine. Mum knows I can look after Kendall.'

'I suppose you can. Better than your mum!'

I couldn't help being pleased he said that, even though it was mean to Mum. I didn't know what to do about her. I knew she'd probably be all right. She'd run off before, several times, sometimes when we were living back with Dad, sometimes since. She was often away for ages but she always came back.

I knew that. But I still worried. Maybe she'd gone storming off in such a rage she hadn't looked when she crossed the road. Maybe she'd seen a car coming and she was in such a state she'd darted across anyway. Maybe she was so scared about the lump and losing her looks she wanted to get knocked over . . .

I put on my denim jacket.

'What are you up to, Lola Rose?' said Jake, as I walked towards the door.

'I'm going out.'

'Oh no, you're not playing that trick on me again.'

'I'm going looking for Mum.'

'No you're not. You're staying right here. Don't even try arguing with me this time.'