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Ivy is an intellectual, a traveler and a very sexual girl.

That night, as Donna snogged Michael in the car, the cheeky cow actually raised her hand from his shoulder and gave me a wave with her fingers as I passed.

I had never felt more confused about my feelings. I didn't think I even liked Donna; yet I felt a burning jealousy of this Michael bloke. I had to talk to someone about it, and I finally chose my older sister. She's a married teacher, and talks more commonsense than anyone I know. After I'd explained the situation to her, she sat staring into space for a good thirty seconds before nodding and beginning to speak. "It could be that you're just jealous because Lesley did the dirty on you, and now Donna's got someone and you haven't. Or, it could be that deep down you think you'd really like Donna if you gave yourself the chance to know her, but you're scared to risk getting hurt again. And being a big macho Italiano, like Dad, you can't admit that to yourself. You said she's stopped asking you out for coffee; well, you ask her, see how she reacts. Even if she says no, at least it'll tell her you want to know her better, and she might think about it."

What Maria had said made sense to me, but I was more nervous at training the next night than I'd ever been for a competition. I couldn't understand why - after all, it was just coffee. As we warmed up on the ice I glided over to Donna, and casually asked if she fancied a drink after training. I felt my face flushing as she gave me a strange look, then said, "Michael's s'posed to be meeting me tonight, but...well, I suppose I could put him off, if you really want me to." Too nervous to speak, I nodded. Shrugging, Donna reached over onto a seat beside the ice and plucked her mobile phone out of her bag. She speed-dialled a number, then explained that Sue had asked us to stay late to discuss something, and would then run Donna home in her car.

All through training I watched Donna closely. She seemed to be preening, more self-assured somehow, and she kept giving me quirky little smiles. Afterwards, we went to a coffee bar in Streatham High Road. We talked about the routine, really talked about it for the first time, just the two of us, and I found I was enjoying myself. I cracked a little joke at one point, and Donna laughed as if it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Afterwards, I insisted in paying for a taxi for her. As she was about to get in, she rose up on her tiptoes and gave me a peck on the cheek. I felt myself flushing again as the cab disappeared into the night.

The next evening it was Donna who asked me for coffee. As we were sitting across the table from each other she told me hesitantly that she had an idea to change the routine. That took me by surprise, but as she drew pictures on a paper serviette, and talked through her idea, I started to get excited. It was a bit of a risk, changing things so close to the national champs, but it might just work. We arranged that the next night I would meet her out of work. I went with her to her home and her mother, who was a skilled seamstress, took measurements of my arms, chest, inside leg and so on. A few days later, Donna turned up at training wearing a woolly Bolivian hat, the flaps of which completely obscured her hair. She had a big bundle under her arm, wrapped in brown paper. She told Sue we wanted to experiment with something new. Our coach placed her hands on her hips, cocked one eyebrow, and said, "Oh yes? And this is something you didn't think you should maybe discuss with me first?"

Donna tried to look apologetic, but didn't really pull it off.

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