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woman passing by gave me a very odd stare.
    â€œThey do these things,” I said. Jem’s eyes had gone like saucers. “They’re always snatching people’s babies!”
    â€œWhat she means,” said Skye, “is they might have thought she couldn’t cope.”
    â€œMy mum couldn’t cope?”
    â€œYes, like if she was a dr—” Skye stopped.
    â€œLike if she was what ?” said Jem.
    â€œOh!” Skye waved a hand. “You know… like if she was still at school, or something.”
    Jem looked at her, uncertainly. I went rushing in to the rescue. “She wouldn’t have wanted to give you up. She probably loved you to bits! She could be wondering even now where you are and what you’re doing… praying that you’re all right. Weeping on your birthday… ”
    Jem put a finger in her mouth and chewed, hesitantly, at a fingernail. Even Skye seemed moved by the tragic picture I was painting. I was moved myself. I could see it all so clearly! A pale young woman, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled desperately to hold on to her baby. Omigod, it was heart-rending!
    Jem took her finger out of her mouth. “Stop it,” she said. “I can’t bear it!”
    â€œIt’s only a scenario,” said Skye. She tends to use these sort of words. “We don’t know that it’s actually what happened.”
    â€œBut it could be,” choked Jem. “My mum, she could be out there, worrying about me!” And she stuffed her finger back in her mouth and began nibbling, furiously, like a rabbit.
    â€œIf it bothers you that much,” I said, “maybe—”
    â€œWhat, what?” spluttered Jem.
    â€œMaybe you should see if you can find her?”

Chapter Four
    I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t do it on purpose! The words just slipped out, as words do; you can’t always control them. I find this happens quite a lot. Mum says it is what comes of being over-eager and not stopping to think before I speak. But I think and speak at the same time! It is just the way I am made, I have these very quick reactions.
    Jem had taken her finger back out of her mouth and come to a full stop in the middle of the street. She was looking at me, searchingly.
    â€œYou really think that’s what I ought to do? Try and trace my real mum?”
    â€œYour birth mum.” Mrs McClusky was her real mum.
    â€œYou really think I should?” said Jem.
    â€œWell… only if it’s what you feel.” I wasn’t going to push her, cos that would be wrong.
    â€œI don’t know!” wailed Jem.
    We were nearly at the school gates.
    â€œThink about it,” said Skye. “We’ll discuss it later.”
    â€œI’ve decided.” Jem hissed it at us as we went into the playground at break. “I’m going to do it!”
    â€œAre you sure?” said Skye. She sounded a bit anxious, though I couldn’t think why. It seemed to me anyone that had been adopted would want to find their birth mother. It wasn’t anything to do with not loving their real mum, it was just ordinary, natural, human curiosity. Well, that’s what I would have thought. But Skye is a very cautious sort of person; she doesn’t believe in rushing headlong into things. She likes to weigh them up and make mental lists like For and Against. Me and Jem can’t be bothered with all that; we tend to go more on impulse.
    â€œIt’s a big decision,” said Skye.
    â€œI know.” Jem said it very solemnly. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning.” All through French, all through history… she’d been told off twice for not paying attention. “The only thing is…” She hesitated. “Where do I start?”
    â€œAsk your mum?” said Skye.
    â€œI can’t ask Mum! I know I’m like totally furious with her, but she might think I was