She had been: had said, with tears in her eyes, that it had made it much worse, but Mum, whose judgment I trusted, said Sean had been right. Older, more sophisticated children might now have debated this, leaning on the Aga stove with their tea; might have wondered whether Shona's feelings had been taken into account, but we were gauche and young and Tommy had done what he'd come to do, looking her in the eye, cheeks the color of his hair, and that was the end of it. Personally, I thought he could have been a bit more charming afterwards, but he wasn't. He stared at the floor and let Hugo carry the show for the next half an hour, as he asked us about school, our plans when we left, which was next year, and as we compared subjects and groaned about Maths, Hugo and Shona — and History — Hugo and me. It was run-of-the-mill stuff. After a bit they got up to go. On the way to the door, Hugo asked me if I was going to the caroling party at the Fosters’ in a few weeks’ time, which I wasn't, but I said I was. We called cheery goodbyes as they went down the front path, then shut the door. My heart was pounding.

"Phew. That wasn't so terrible," I told Shona.

“Total result for you. He likes you."

"You think?"

"Oh, come on. You've got a date at the carols."

I pulled a face. "Bit weird? Crooning away beside him?"

“Mulled wine afterwards, a kiss in the moonlight? What's not to like?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." But I couldn't disguise my excitement. "As for Tommy . . ." I rolled my eyes, feeling this was too much about me.

"Oh, he was all right," she said, "for an over-privileged idiot.”

"You think? All that small-town rubbish!”

She shrugged. "Honest."

"And then he hardly said a word!"

"Oh, I don't hold that against him. I'd have thought less of him if he'd turned on the charm. He looked like he couldn't speak. Like he couldn't just carry on with idle chit-chat after what he'd said — or hadn't said. Trouble is," she said ruefully, "I'm so used to the real thing."

We wandered back to the kitchen. "Weird thing is . .” I hesitated, because it was weird, in that it was the first time we'd ever talked about it, "and I say this with huge guilt, Shona . . . I've never noticed."

"I know," she told me. "And shall I tell you my much bigger, guiltier secret? When your dad died — and I adored your father, as you know — a bit of me was pleased."

I froze. My hand was on the kettle, about to make more tea. I turned to look at her, horrified. Her eyes were full.

"You were going to boarding school on that army bursary, but instead, you stayed here with your Mum. You're the only person I've ever met who's genuinely never noticed."