The first hotel said they were full. No one came to the door of the second hotel, though the hall light was on and we rang and rang. I started to panic then, thinking we were going to stagger round half the hotels in London.

Mum said brightly, 'Third time lucky' and it was. A man came to the door and said he had a double room for the night, 45 to be paid now, and a fiver each if we wanted a continental breakfast.

Mum handed over the money and then signed the register. She's got very big, sprawly writing. She swirls every loop and puts little hearts instead of dots over her 'i's. But she made her writing little and squiggly in his greasy register, so that it was very hard to read. It didn't look anything like Mum's name, Nikki Fenton.

Still, the hotel man didn't seem bothered. He didn't even give Mum's sore face a second glance. Her nose was all crusty now. She dabbed at it self-consciously and started some spiel about falling flat on her face because of her silly high heels, but the man didn't seem to be listening. It was like he'd heard it all before a hundred times over. He just handed Mum the keys, pointed up the stairs and went back to watching Channel Five in his office.

'Charming,' Mum muttered. 'Well, we won't be stopping here for long.'

We hauled Kenny and our bags up three narrow flights of stairs and found our room down a dingy corridor. It had hardly any furniture, just a double bed with cigarette burns on the duvet, a wardrobe with only one hanger and a wash basin with a sliver of soap and just one towel. Mum sniffed contemptuously. She gingerly pulled back the duvet but the sheets were reassuringly white and smelt freshly laundered.

'Come on, then, let's get into bed,' she said. 'You get Kenny out of all them clothes while I go and find the toilet.'

Mum came back with her nose wrinkled. 'It's not very nice,' she said. 'Watch Kenny when you take him, Jayni. Don't let him touch anything.'

Kenny was half asleep so he did as he was told, dopily. I found it hard to go myself, not daring to sit on the filthy seat. I just sort of hung in mid-air, hoping for the best. I distracted myself reading all the rude messages scribbled on the wall.

When we got back Mum was already in bed, her mohair cardie on over her black nightie. 'Come on kids, it's freezing in here.'

We jumped in with her. It was like sliding into snow, but Mum put her arms tight round us and we all huddled up. It gradually got cosier. We heard some couple arguing along the corridor but Mum pulled the covers right up over our heads so we were in our own cave where no one could get us.

I fell asleep eventually but woke with a start in the middle of the night. I'd been dreaming of Dad. He was chasing after me. I woke up with my heart pounding as if I'd really been running. I reached out for Mum but she wasn't there. I could only feel Kenny, huddled into a little ball, breathing heavily.

I sat up, panicking. It was dark in the poky little bedroom but I could just make out a shape over by the window.

'Mum?' I slipped out of bed and pattered across the worn carpet. 'What you doing, Mum?' I put my hand on her arm. She was shivering in spite of her mohair cardigan.

'Shh, love. Don't wake Kenny.'

'It's OK, he's dead to the world. Mum? Can't you sleep?'

'Nope. And I've run out of fags, which is a bit of a bummer. I was wondering about going out looking for a machine somewhere-'

'Don't, Mum!'

'OK. I wasn't very thrilled about the idea myself. Oh Jayni, what the hell are we doing here? Maybe I went a little bit nuts. Your dad wouldn't really start on you. He thinks the world of you, darling.'

'He thinks the world of you too, Mum, but he hits you. Why does he?'

'Search me. I just seem to set him off. I'm pretty useless really. Not much cop as a wife or a mum.' She started to cry.

'You're a lovely mum,' I said. I put my arms round her. 'You're not useless at all. You're lucky. You're the only person who's ever won the lottery round our way.'

'Lady Luck,' Mum sniffed. 'That's what I signed in the register downstairs. L. Luck. Just in case your dad came snooping. Maybe it's not such a good idea to be so close to the station. This could be the first place he'll look if he comes after us. We'll leave right after breakfast, OK?'

'Is that going to be your new name then, Mum? Lady Luck?'

'Well, "Lady" sounds a bit daft, doesn't it? I could be Nikki Luck now, though. Or maybe I'll change my first name too. I'll be . . . Victoria. I always liked Posh best of all the Spice Girls. Victoria Luck. Yeah, sounds great, doesn't it?'

'Shall we change our names too, Kenny and me?'

'Yes, I think you'd better. Who do you want to be then, darling?'

I thought of all the women in my scrapbook, Britney and Charlotte and Kate and Kylie, but that didn't work because I wasn't remotely like any of them. I'd edged each picture with lots of cut-out presents for each woman flowers and glasses of champagne and boxes of chocolates and bottles of perfume. One of the pictures had the model's name, Lola Rose.

I tried the name out inside my head. I liked it.

'I'll be Lola Rose.' I stood up straight, tossed my hair, smoothed my nightie. Lola Rose sounded a seriously cool girl. She had long, thick, curly hair (my fine, straight hair seemed thicker and curlier already). Lola Rose had a perfect model figure. I sucked in my tummy and stuck out my chest. Lola Rose wasn't scared of anyone. Not even her dad.

I breathed out slowly, a little smile on my face.

'Lola Rose Luck,' said Mum. 'OK New name, new start.' She rubbed her watery eyes, smearing her mascara. 'Oh Gawd, look at me. Bum, I didn't pack my cleansing cream or my make-up!'

'We can go shopping, get you heaps more. And I could have some too,' I said hopefully.

'OK, Lola Rose,' said Mum, going to the sink to wash her face. She scooped up some water and then shrieked. 'My God!'

I'd filled the basin with cold water for Bubble. Mum had fished him out by mistake. He wriggled free and plopped back into the water while Mum and I giggled hysterically.

'Shut up in there, I'm trying to sleep,' someone called, banging on our wall.

Mum and I spluttered some more, hands over our mouths. Kenny woke up too.

'Where am I?' he said, starting to cry. 'Mum? Jayni?'

'Shh, Kenny, we're here,' I said, going to him.

'And you can shut that kid up too!' the voice shouted from the other side of the wall.

'You're the one making all the noise, matie,' Mum yelled. 'You shut up.'

'Mum! Don't! Please don't start a row,' I hissed. I had my arms round Kenny, trying to stop him wailing.

The voice yelled back something very rude, so rude that Mum and I got the giggles again. Mum got back into bed beside us.

'We're out of here first thing, kids,' she whispered. 'We're dossing down amongst some right nutters.'

'You're squashing me, Jayni!' Kenny complained.

'Sorry, sorry. But don't call me Jayni. I'm Lola Rose now.'

'And I'm Victoria,' said Mum.

'Is this a game?' Kenny said uncertainly. 'I don't like it. I want to go home.'

'No you don't,' I said quickly. 'This is much more fun. We're going shopping later on. We'll buy you all sorts, Kenny. But we're being new people now, so we've got new names. I'm Lola Rose Luck. Cool name, isn't it! And Mum's Victoria Luck. So what name are you going to choose?'

'I'm Kenny,' said Kenny.

'Yeah, but now you can be anybody. Shall I help you? What about . . . Jamie? Robbie? David?'

'Which? I won't remember,' Kenny said, looking worried.

'Yes, you will. How about something like your own name, so it doesn't sound too different. Lenny? Benny?'

'Could I be Kendall?' said Kenny.

'Kendal mint cake!' Mum spluttered.

I felt Kenny stiffen, humiliated.

'I think Kendall's a cool name,' I said.

'Yeah, right, it's totally cool. Victoria Luck has two cool kids, Kendall and Lola Rose,' said Mum, snuggling down between us. 'Shall we all try and have a little kip now?'

She cuddled us close. Kenny Kendall was quiet. I thought he'd gone to sleep. But then he piped up again. 'What's Dad going to be called?'

I waited for Mum to answer. She didn't. Maybe she was asleep.

'Dad isn't part of our family now, Kendall,' I whispered.

'Why not?' Kendall sounded astonished.

I couldn't see how he could be so thick. 'You know why!' I hissed. 'Because Dad's horrible and keeps hitting Mum. He hit me too. It still hurts whenever I move my jaw.'

'He doesn't hit me,' said Kendall.

'Don't you feel sorry he hits Mum?'

'But she deserves it,' said Kendall.

I took hold of his bony little shoulders through his T-shirt and shook him hard. 'How dare you say such a wicked, stupid thing!'

'But she does deserve it. Dad says so,' Kendall said, starting to whimper. 'Don't, Jayni, you're hurting.'

'I'm not Jayni any more, I'm Lola, Lola Rose. And you're not to say another word about Dad or I'll get really cross. We hate Dad.'

'No, we don't,' Kendall mumbled. 'We love him.'

I turned my back on him. I elbowed him away when he tried to cuddle up. I hated him even though he was right.

I hated Dad. He scared me silly. But I still loved him.

I thought of him wandering round our flat all by himself, calling our names, looking in every room, pulling down bedcovers, peering in wardrobes. He'd get mad later. Fighting mad. But he'd be so hurt too. He'd cry. Our dad was the toughest man on the estate but I'd often seen him cry. He always cried after he'd hit Mum. He'd hold her hands and tell her he was sorry, tears trickling down his cheeks. He'd kiss all her bruises. He'd go down on his knees and beg her to forgive him. And she did.

It wasn't just Mum. Dad has a way of getting round anyone. When Kenny had a temper tantrum, flat on his back, drumming his heels and yelling fit to burst, Dad would pick him up, laughing. 'Let's switch off this silly noise,' he'd say, pressing Kenny's nose like a button. Kenny would stop mid-scream and laugh like it had been a joke all along.

Dad could get round me too. He'd come and sit beside me and pick up my hand and play with my fingers, calling them funny names. Once he painted each of my little bitten nails the seven colours of the rainbow and my thumbs and one pinky finger gold, silver and sparkly white. He bought me this little pack of rainbow beads and threaded them onto my plaits while he fed me rainbow-dotted chocolate buttons.

On my last birthday he gave me a great silver box tied with rainbow ribbon. There were layers of tissue inside so I knew it was a dress. I guessed it would be a rainbow dress and I felt anxious because I'm too big for that kind of party frock. It was beautiful, with smocking on the front and rainbow stripes, little puff sleeves and a big flouncy skirt. It was the sort of dress I'd have died for when I was about five. It looked awful on me now. It was much too tight, too bright, too babyish. But I had to smile and hold out my skirts and prance around as if I was thrilled to bits.

I had to wear it to the school disco. All the other kids laughed at me. No one wanted to dance with me so I danced by myself, leaping around wildly, pretending to be having fun. I leapt a little too wildly and split my seams. Mum tried to sew them up for me but the material was ripped and frayed. We hid the dress at the back of the wardrobe so Dad wouldn't see.

I thought about him finding it now.

I felt as if I were splitting apart just like my dress.

We checked out of that hotel straight after our continental breakfast.

'Though what's continental about cornflakes and toast and watered-down orange juice?' said Mum. 'What a rip-off! Let's splash out and stay somewhere decent.'

We chose a big new hotel overlooking the river Thames.

'Dead classy,' said Mum. 'Don't you let me down, kids.'

We were given a big bedroom with a huge bed with a pink silky cover that matched the ruffled curtains. 'And Pinkie matches too,' I said, but when I tucked her under the covers she looked horribly grey and grubby. We had our own bathroom and a television and a phone and a fridge.

'Look, we can have lots of drinks! And there's peanuts and chocolates. Wow!' said Kendall, rifling through them.

'Hang on, I don't think they're free, are they, Mum?' I said, grabbing his wrists.

'Yeah, but we're in the money, babe. Let him help himself.'

Kendall drank a can of Coke and nibbled peanuts while Mum and I had a bath together. There were dinky little bottles of shampoo and bath foam so we had the bath brimming with bubbles. We felt just like film stars.

'You come and jump in too, Kenny Kendall,' Mum called.

We could hear him mumbling away to himself or to someone else.

'Kendall?' I clambered out of the bath, wrapped one of the wonderful big fluffy towels right round me and padded into the bedroom. Kendall was leaning against the dressing table, chatting into the phone.

'Yes, Dad, it's great in London,' he said.

I froze. 'Kenny!'

He looked startled, then turned his back on me. 'Only Jayni keeps nagging at me, Dad. And I have to sleep in a big bed with her and Mum and I want my own bed because I'm a big boy, aren't I?' he gabbled.

Then I grabbed the phone, wrenching it out of his hand so fiercely I bent his fingers back.

'Ow!' Kenny screamed. He tried to hit me with his hand and hurt his fingers more.

'You told Dad where we are!' I said.

Then I heard the dialling tone on the phone. Kenny hadn't really been talking to Dad. He'd just been pretending.

Unless Dad had put the phone down his end . . .

'Were you really talking to Dad, Kenny?'