And just like that, it was the day.
The day.
For something they'd been anticipating for such a long time, it was a fairly ordinary one too: a flat grey void of sky stretched tightly over the heads of maple trees and terraced houses like the skin of a drum; livened occasionally by sharp gusts of wind. But since the calendar said it was Thursday the 14th, they were willing to ignore the boring atmosphere.
"Anything exciting happening today?" Sophie glanced across them, sowed with new, family-orientated resolve. The picture of her and her sister had been put back in its place of honour on the windowsill; with a new shine brought about by a vigorous morning session of scrubbing and polishing. A gem amongst useless, dusty artefacts.
Those were the days! Love C-xxx
Yes, they certainly were.
"Science competition, Mum," Luke's cardboard box was propped carefully up on the kitchen table. All the planets were acceptable sizes in proportion to each other; with just the right number of moons (some of them had to be very small.) The deep indigo background was painted to perfection; decorated with spiral nebulae and a pretty convincing-looking asteroid belt.
Science competition. Sophie screwed up her forehead in thought. She'd been so busy recently that keeping up with all the week's events had been quite a struggle.
"Oh, yes. After school. I'll be thinking of you whilst I'm stuck in the office!"
Luke didn't think that was much of a consolation after all his hard work, but he nodded anyway. He could do with all the positive thoughts he could get. Yesterday, Katie Evans had shown up in class without so much as a sniffle, and a rumour was circulating that her hand-built computer was 25% complete already.
"Don't be late," he turned to Victoria, who was gazing into space with an anguished expression.
She turned distractedly. "I won't be late if you don't drag it out. Remember- sit through the presentations, get the prize, and go."
"But don't rush!" Abby chimed in. "Answer their questions and be polite! Mrs Mason was saying earlier that her niece is entering. The neighbourhood are quite interested in how this is going to turn out."
Luke shot her a suspicious glance. "Who's Mrs Mason's niece, then?"
"I don't know," she replied hastily. For that day only, it was important that she kept Luke's confidence up and nerves down. And she was certain that it wasn't Katie Evans, anyway.
Sophie surveyed them over the cornflake box. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that she was listening to a conversation between herself and her sister, years earlier. There was no denying that they were getting on much better these days- though why the dynamic had changed she wasn't sure. That would be a nice change for when Uncle Joe came round next week.
Abby watched their mother surveying them over the cornflake box, and shook open her notebook under the table.
'Mum is still quiet, but doesn't seem nearly so withdrawn and stressed. Photos and postcards have been rearranged- expect more visits from friends and relatives.'
Sophie slung her black leather handbag over one shoulder and leant over to kiss the air above each of her children's cheeks.
"Call me after they've judged in the competition," she called as the door swung shut.
"You would think," Layla said to Victoria after she was gone, "that Mum would be there to see it herself."
Victoria looked at the newly polished photograph and then back at her youngest sister. Layla had grown a lot recently; and not just physically. They had all been thinking of her as the baby of the family- amusing, precocious, and branded with the tiresome label 'Too Young To Understand.' But Layla was not a baby. She was getting to be a sensible, independent girl who did things by herself, and noticed what they didn't. And it was all happening quite quickly.
"I," Victoria declared, "am never having kids."
Through the thin walls, they heard the clattering of children running down the street to their parents' cars and the bus stop; nannies dragging their backpacks and lunches dejectedly along behind them.
"We're going to be late now, never mind tonight!" Luke swept the project, inside its carrier bag, off the table. "I need to see Nurse Clara before I do anything."
Abby snorted. "I bet the nurse didn't expect to swap first aid skills for therapy when she applied for the job. You're going to be fine."
"I don't want to be fine," he protested, "I want to be the best!"
Abby knew that feeling. "People who want to be the best," she said firmly, "need to be confident, hardworking and punctual. Do you tick all three boxes?"
"Does he tick any of the boxes?" Nathan quipped, shoving scuffed exercise books into his brown satchel.
Luke glared at him. "I've worked hard enough!"
"You've been ready for weeks," Victoria soothed. "Months, even. Katie Whatsit probably just got her dad to do the project for her- don't go around believing that she's really gone and built a computer."
But Luke's burning worries couldn't be extinguished by a few reassuring words, no matter how often he repeated them to himself on the winding walk to school.
He watched Katie's brown ponytail swinging lazily in front of his seat in English. She was scribbling down answers across her worksheet; the pencilled sentences scattering across her page like dark feathers. He wasn't sure who else was entering the science fair, but he was determined to keep tabs on them all.
"If you want to get good grades across the board," Mrs Forbes reproached him, looming up from behind, "you're to keep up with writing. Don't let anybody tell you that literature isn't just as important as science and mathematics."
"Mmm," he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. "Miss, can I be excused to see the nurse?"
Back at home, Victoria was watching the play-back of her performance in Mrs Grove's studio for the fifth time. It had been embarrassing the first time; and cringe-worthy the second. Now she was beginning to feel mortified.
There was no way- no way- that she was going to walk into the audition room, and warble like a frantic white-faced apparition. Maybe singing wasn't her best talent after all.
She considered herself for a moment, and shrugged. Singing wasn't important anyway- she could cartwheel and dance and talk without pauses like a professional. Sometimes she thought that she was more interested in fame itself than the hard work it took to get her there. But wasn't everyone?
On impulse, she snatched up the phone and started punching in a familiar number. Her fingers danced across the buttons without her having to look down. Dad would be at work, but when he called back, he'd help her nerves. Maybe he would give her some inspiration along with that- it wasn't as if she was going to get any from the Boss at the chippy later on.
"Hello, this is Dave." The ringing stopped and Dad's voicemail message whirred to life. "Sorry I couldn't grab the time to talk- work's been a bit hectic recently. Leave me a buzz and I'll call you right back."
Victoria could hear the recorded voices of Dad's girlfriend and her teenage son arguing about something in the background.
"Um," she started, "Victoria. Um, Dad, I have an, uh, thing on tonight. Can you talk?
Can you call back then? Uh, thanks. Bye."
The receiver went dead in her hand and she slotted it back down. Then she swept up her tasselled bag and set off to work. Anybody watching would think there was nothing wrong.
"So you've got everything under control," Nurse Clara clarified, "you're one hundred percent prepared, and you're just having a case of the butterflies?"
"I think I'm prepared," Luke frowned. "But now I'm wondering whether I didn't make enough notes on moon phases- or whether I've left out the labels- and Nurse, what if it breaks on the way there?"
Nurse Clara's welfare office was empty, with the exception of one pimple-faced boy slumped on a chair with a thermometer. He shot Luke a surly glance.
"What if it breaks?" Clara shook her head laughingly. "You, my boy, are just preparing for the worst. It comes with being a worrier."
"I wouldn't mind being a warrior," Luke remarked hopefully. "Maybe the sort that uses chemical weapons, and designs aircraft using physics."
The nurse gave a cut-off yelp of laughter. "A worrier," she repeated. "I couldn't imagine you battling anyone! Like me, you know. I always said we were kindred spirits!"
"So that means you'll come to the fair?" Luke tried his best to look paler and sicklier.
Nurse Clara inspected the spotty boy's thermometer. "Five more minutes, Theo," she said. "And we'll see about that," she replied, turning to Luke. "I'd like to support all you students. Especially my favourite patient... How's Victoria doing?"
Luke used to be annoyed when the conversation turned to his older sister, but he didn't mind so much anymore. It was one thing to discuss a waitress, but quite another to talk about a TV show audition.
"She's a little crazy," he confessed. "And I think she's more fussed about her outfit than her actual performance."
"Clothes!" The nurse glared down at her own starched white uniform. "And her mother was just the same! Anyway, at least something's motivating her."
"Yeah," agreed Luke. "And you're right, Mum does always dress smart. You know a lot of people, nurse."
At this, Clara gave a little half-grin. "You would too, in this job."
And then she was bent over Theo and holding a damp flannel to his greasy forehead, and Luke knew his visit was over, even if he didn't quite know why. He gathered up his bag and stumped downstairs back to maths.
"And then you just make sure the till has received the right change." The scrawny ginger-haired man at the takeaway pushed the cashier drawer shut and turned to Victoria with a flourish.
She had been there all of fifteen minutes, and she was already feeling slightly sick. The counter was slick and oily; illuminated by sharp electric lights that did nothing for her reflection in the dirty windows. The air was warm and slightly damp, and behind every noise was the subtle humming of the deep-fry. And she still hadn't met the Boss.
"I can work a till," she told the man patiently. "Can I start now? I was told to come along and start straightaway."
He shovelled a handful of limp, white chips into a cardboard container. They left grease stains on the sides. "I know what you've been told, I'm just making sure you have everything under control. Now, if you want to ask any questions, I'll be in the back room."
The aprons were made of some sort of cheap plastic, and they smelled of sweat. As her new colleague vanished into the staff room, Victoria shoved her tasselled bag out of harm's way and slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. She had come prepared.
Even though there didn't seem all that much to be prepared for, in a takeaway at midday. When her mobile buzzed from deep inside the apron's pocket, she seized it in relief.
"Only a few hours until the audition," came the breathless voice from the end of the line. "Are you ready? You're ready, aren't you? Tell me you're ready!"
Victoria glanced at the clock. Second break, on the dot.
"I'm always ready," she breezed.
She heard Abby groan, from miles away in the school playground. "You're not, are you? Nobody wanted to ask, because after that nightmare in Mrs Grove's you were bound to get all snippy!"
Victoria thought that was a slight exaggeration. She never got snippy. "Well, I haven't been very inspired recently," she admitted. "I ruled out singing, and I can't think of much else that sounds interesting."
After that, there was a long pause from the other end. The room was so silent that she could hear the distant yells of boys playing football over the phone.
"Abby? Are you still there?"
"Yep."
"Well?" Victoria couldn't see her sister, but she could tell that she would be wearing one of her intense expressions. Abby was having a brainwave.
"I might have an idea," she said. "Stay put, and I'll call you back when it's sorted."