Lemons are sour, aren’t they? Well, that’s how my life has been so far. Sour. With scarcely a hint of sweetness. Like my name.

Lemon-Quartz Ellen-James.

I’m proud of my name, however strange it sounds. A lemon-quartz is a yellow gemstone, which is said to symbolise light and hope, something that I try to hold onto no matter what. My mother must have had a lot of hope too, because she gave me that name.

She named me after her lemon-quartz bracelet, which Papa said she received as a present when I was born. She used to call me her little shining gem, letting me slide the bracelet up and down my wrist. I’d give anything to have my mother with me now. She died when I was little, but I still remember her as an exceptionally pretty woman, with shining golden hair just like mine bordering her pale face, her blue eyes a jewel in her perfect complexion. She would play games with me every day and tickle me until I squealed. Although most of my memories of Mama are vague, I have never doubted that she loved me.

“My little gem,” she would say, giving me an angelic smile. “Have hope and -”

"What are you doing, Lemon-Quartz?” came Samantha’s voice from a long way off.

I dropped my dreamy gaze and set about scrubbing the cold stone flags of the kitchen, hoping that she wouldn’t be too cross at my lapse in concentration; Samantha and I rarely saw eye-to-eye nowadays, and it didn’t take long for her to lose her temper with me.

Samantha is Papa’s second wife, a spiteful, implacable woman who couldn’t be more different from Mama’s kind, gentle temperament. I don’t think she’s ever liked me; our relationship is certainly no mother-and-daughter cliché. I suppose one thing I can say for Samantha is that she is strong; although her tall, slight stature doesn’t suggest it, her strength, accumulated from a hard life in the slums, is unmatched; she could pick me up and hurl me straight out of the window in a matter of moments.

“Don’t slack off,” Samantha said sharply, again pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’ve told you again and again to focus, Lemon-Quartz. Do you ever listen to me at all?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond without making her angry, so I just gazed at her silently.

“Don’t give me that look, young lady!” Samantha glared at me menacingly. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother with you -”

At that moment, there was a loud crash from outside, followed by howling that could deafen the whole of London in a heartbeat. Moments later, Arnold toddled into the kitchen as fast as his little chubby legs could carry him, crying loudly.

Samantha muttered something under her breath and strode outside, thrusting Arnold into my arms. I whispered soothingly to him as I gently stroked his back; then, once he’d calmed down a little, I tickled him to make him laugh. Arnold, familiar with this game, hunched his shoulders and started chuckling, giving me a wide grin that proudly displayed his newly grown milk teeth.

Arnold isn’t my proper brother, and neither are Amie, Lily and Monty; they’re my half-siblings - Samantha’s children (although they bear little resemblance, in both looks and personality, to their mother). Arnold is a fretful crier, always wailing for attention. He’s eleven months old so he isn’t even one yet, but he’s already toddling about, always getting into some sort of trouble. Once he managed to reach right up to the table and unwittingly grabbed the kitchen knife (fortunately by the handle). He would have hurt himself if Samantha snatched it away from him in time.

She scolded me for it because I was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, even though she’d just sent me down to the bakers for a penny loaf. She seems to believe that because I’m the eldest, I am therefore, in her eyes, the ringleader in any situation.

I heard furious shouting and the crashing of saucepans; turning my head towards the door leading out to the alley, I saw a furious Monty attacking Amie and Lily with a wooden spoon, the saucepans that they were using as helmets dented and battered. Samantha scolded him sharply as she snatched the weapons off him.

I gulped nervously; it was my job to keep my siblings out of mischief, so before I went inside to scrub the floor, I gave them several of Samantha’s saucepans and a couple of cooking spoons so that they could play battles. Unfortunately, I had forgotten Monty’s tendency to hit everyone in the vicinity when he was losing (he hadn’t quite grasped the concept of fair play) which generally led to a big fight – and punishment from Samantha.

I tried to occupy myself with something other than scrubbing so that Samantha wouldn’t have a reason to chide me (as I already looked guilty) but fortunately the stew pot, which was currently suspended over the fireplace, began to bubble over, almost putting out the fire, so I quickly attended to that, tying Arnold safely to my waist with an old rag beforehand. The stew smelt horrible as Samantha had let the pot overheat again, burning the meat, and the stew itself had become flavourless and watery. It was a waste of good meat as we only obtained such luxuries once a week from the butchers, and in the winter only once a month (thanks to the inflated prices of food). We mostly lived on hunks of bread with dripping (or jam if we were lucky) and watery bowls of gruel. Papa sometimes had bacon as he worked long hours at the factory every day, and Samantha occasionally gave her children thin slices of meat off the Sunday roast, but she didn’t weaken when it came to me.

As I fought a losing battle with the stew, Samantha came striding back inside, clutching her ruined saucepans by their handles.

“So,” she said, her voice relatively steady, although I could detect the anger that lay hidden beneath the surface, “you thought it would be clever to let your siblings run around with my saucepans, did you?”

“I didn’t know that they would start fighting,” I replied, staying equally composed; becoming passionate would only lead to trouble.

“Don’t answer back, missy!” Samantha snapped. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.”

But before she could try anything, I heard excited squeals coming from outside, followed by thumping footsteps as Amie, Lily and Monty burst into the kitchen, giggling excitedly.

“Mummy, we found a marble in the gutter!” exclaimed Amie, holding up the shiny glass ball for Samantha’s inspection.

“Did you now?” said Samantha, pretending to look interested.

“Is it magic?” asked Monty, his eyes round with excitement.

“Why would it be magic?” Samantha sighed.

“Because it’s red and swirly and shiny,” Amie explained, turning the marble in her small hand to show Samantha the faded pattern.

“I think it might be magic,” I said, playing along as I looked carefully at the little glass ball. “Maybe it will give us magic powers!”

“Will it let me fly?” Amie exclaimed excitedly.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Who knows?”

“I want the marble too!” said Lily, turning to Samantha. “Mummy, can I keep it?” she pleaded, her large blue eyes widening slightly.

“If you like,” said Samantha. Lily grinned; however, neither of her siblings looked pleased.

“I want the marble too!” Monty grumbled.

“Can’t I keep it?” asked Amie, holding onto the marble protectively. “I found it first!”

“Couldn’t you find another one?” Samantha suggested.

“No, that was the only marble!” said Amie. “Can we go to the market and buy one?”

“Please, Mummy?” Monty begged.

“Another day, perhaps,” said Samantha. “Right now, it’s nearly time for your dinner. Go and sit at the table.”

“But we haven’t finished playing yet!” Lily protested.

“Can Lemon-Quartz come out to play with us?” asked Amie, taking my hand. “She makes up the best games!”

“Will you play with us, Lemon-Quartz?” Lily begged me, throwing her arms around my waist.

“Perhaps we can play for a little bit after supper,” I suggested, smiling as I put Arnold down to hug both of my sisters – but Samantha objected.

“I don’t need you leading the children astray again,” she said sternly to me, “especially after the unkind trick you pulled on poor Mrs Elsbury yesterday!”

Lily and Monty sniggered at that; the joke on our neighbour, Mrs Elsbury, which involved a handful of live worms and a pair of the unfortunate woman’s undergarments, had been their doing; yet Samantha had decided to blame me for it.

“They won’t do it again, Samantha,” I said quickly, turning to the mischievous duo, “will you, children?”

“We won’t,” said Lily, still clinging to me.

“I want a cuddle too!” Monty declared, masterfully changing the subject as he latched onto me as well. I bent down to hug him properly, ruffling his golden-brown curls. Arnold toddled forwards to join in the hug and we all cuddled up together, five little birds in a nest.

I’d been devoted to my brothers and sisters ever since they were born. Although I hadn’t been a great stepdaughter to Samantha, I had strived to become a good big sister to her children, and it had been a true privilege to watch my siblings grow up into such funny, competitive, friendly children. Now, six years later, we were all thriving together, despite our unfortunate circumstances, and I hoped that we would all stay together for years to come, no matter what the future held.

Amie was Samantha’s eldest child and enjoyed the position; she liked to boss the others around, pretending that she was a mum (although she didn’t have a clue how to change the baby’s nappies). She was tall for six, with short brown curls that reached her chin, big brown eyes like Papa’s and a beautiful smile that could cheer anyone up. Amie was a dear little thing, a true big sister to her siblings despite her bossy ways, and very close to me. I’d been helping to take care of her since I was just five, and our bond had grown so strong it was almost unbreakable. Sometimes, Amie seemed closer to me than to her actual mother.

Lily was my second half-sister, two years younger than Amie, and was the sweetest-looking child I had ever met. Accompanying her lovely blue eyes was a mop of fair curls similar to mine that reached past her shoulders. Lily was also small, like me, even though she was no relation of my mother’s, although she was clearly her mother’s pet because Samantha babied her, treating her like a two-year-old even though she was four – long past the baby stage. I suppose it was hardly surprising – she looked two years old and was innocent and cheerful, although she also possessed an adventurous spirit, something that she shared with her brother.

Monty was famous in Endfell Alley as a pint-sized troublemaker, even though he was only three. His full name was Montgomery, but it became rather a mouthful to pronounce so we nicknamed him Monty. He had dark innocent eyes with curly golden-brown hair that made him look like an angel, but he was anything but, constantly getting into trouble and making mischief. I often had to keep a close eye on him to keep him in check.

Just as Samantha and I were settling the children down for dinner, we were all distracted by the sound of the front door opening as Papa stepped into the house, smiling tiredly at us.

“Papa!” the children and I cried in unison as we rushed towards the door to greet him. Like every evening, we took turns to give Papa a hug, starting with me.

“How's my little gem?” he smiled at me.

“About as bright as I’ll ever be, Papa,” I said jokingly. Papa laughed and ruffled my tangled curls.

Papa, like many other fathers in our alley, works in the factory at the end of the main street, working tirelessly for twelve hours a day, sometimes taking on extra shifts to earn more money to feed his hungry children and his grumpy wife. This means that even when Papa’s at home, he’s generally too tired to take much notice of us, but he always gives each of us a hug and tries to make a fuss of us. He strives to treat all us kids equally, but I happen to be Papa’s favourite; he’s always kind to me and rarely says a bad word against me. Even after an exhausting day at work, he still gives me a hug and tells me that I’m his shining little gem, like Mama used to say. That doesn’t mean to say that Papa doesn’t try to treat his other children; occasionally, if he has money to spare, he buys a small bag of sweets (frequently sherbet lemons, my favourite confectionery) and shares them with us kids.