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'I wish we were rich,.' said Christina with the imperious raise of an eyebrow she had seen her friend Penelope employ to such effect.

There was no reply from the girl. In fact there was no sign that the photograph had ever been anything other than simply that: a photograph. Christina walked away to wait and see what would happen.

Day after day went by but nothing changed. She had almost given up on seeing her wish fulfilled when the telephone rang one rainy Saturday afternoon.

Christina's mother had her back to her as she took the call and seemed to have to steady herself at one point, her hand clutching the back of a chair. She replaced the receiver and stood, head bowed, in silence for a moment.

'Mother?' said Christina.

Mrs Webster turned to face her daughter, tears in her eyes.

'Go and fetch Agnes, dear,.' she said.

Christina did as she was asked and their mother took them into the parlour.

'It's Grandmama,.' she said. 'Be brave, my chicks. I'm afraid . . . I am so sorry, but she has passed away.'

The news hit Mrs Webster especially hard, coming as it did so soon after Eva's deportation. Her mother-in-law could be a cold woman and had used the promise of her money as a kind of weapon, but she had been Mrs Webster's last link to her dear husband, Robert, who had died so long ago the girls could barely remember him. Christina was left feeling cold.

Later, when Agnes and Christina were alone together, Agnes said sharply, 'You never did like Grandmama!'

'She did not like me!' replied Christina.

Agnes shook her head in exasperation.

'You shall not make me feel guilty,.' said Christina. 'I am sorry Grandmother has died but, unlike some, I shall not pretend to be upset.'

Agnes took a sharp intake of breath and slapped Christina round the face with all the strength she could muster. The blow was sharp and stung Christina's face, bringing tears to her eyes and knocking her sideways on to the bed. When she looked up Agnes was gone. She rubbed the side of her face and ground her teeth together.

'I'm sick of her,.' she muttered. 'I wish I had my own room.'

The word 'wish' echoed in her head. Had she really wished her own grandmother dead? No. She had wished for the family to be rich, that was all. True, her grandmother's death did now mean they were rich, but that was hardly her fault. She was not to blame for how the wish was made real. When she looked up again her mother was standing in the doorway.

'Dear Christina,.' she said with more than a trace of surprise in her face and voice. 'Why, you are crying, sweetness.'

'Yes, Mother,.' she said. 'Poor Grandmama.'

'She is with the angels now, God rest her soul,. ' said her mother.

'How did she die, Mama?' asked Christina, sitting up. Her mother looked away for a moment and clenched and unclenched her fingers.

'She had a fall, my darling,.' she said. 'I had warned her so many times about that staircase but she would not . . .'

Christina's mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them a tear ran down her cheek. Christina got up from the bed and ran over to her mother, hugging her. Her mother stroked her hair and Christina clung on tightly, rejoicing in this new closeness between them.

Perhaps it was not too late to make amends. Christina had had a small taste of what it must feel like to be good, to be Agnes, and she liked it. Maybe it was not too late for her to change.

Agnes came back to the bedroom a little later to find Christina still sitting where she had left her. To her surprise, Christina opened her arms wide and said how sorry she was.

'Can you ever forgive me, Agnes?' she asked.

'Of course I can,.' said Agnes, embracing her.

'You're my sister. And I should not have hit you.'

'I deserved it,.' said Christina. 'I was being beastly. I've been beastly for a long time but I'm going to change, Agnes, I promise.'

The two girls clung tightly to each other until Agnes said that she felt tired and lay down on her bed. Christina sat by her, stroking her hair until she fell