My sister sat in a corner, unusually quiet today. For a moment I was afraid she’d taken ill – the boisterous rascal was simply too quiet.

She looked up when my shadow fell over her and her face broke ou in a wide grin. I wondered what she was up to.

‘Hey,’ she said.

There was a big bottle of glue beside her standing close to some of my IT magazines. I was beginning to get annoyed – she was using the very glue I’d warned her against but what really had me miffed was that my precious IT magazines were lying tattered – she’d snipped them with a pair of scissors.

The smile faded slowly from her face as she realised just how I felt about it. She looked down, unable to meet my gaze.

‘I was making it for your birthday,’ she said in a tiny voice. Ten-year-olds. She must have wanted to suurprise me – I was surprised all right.

‘And just what’s that,’ I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice so she wouldn’t start crying.

‘A scrapbook,’ she said, holding it up. I took it from her and leafed through it. It was beautiful, morseo because she seemed to have known my favourite –and perhaps because she had made it for me.

‘Thank you sis,’ I said.