I look back at the couch. “I’ll sleep in my bed.”

I PUT LETTIE’S things in the dryer before I go to bed. It rumbles, making the house breathe soft warm air.

I leave my bedroom door open. Splints pads in and lies on the floor. He’s asleep in minutes.

It feels odd to be lying flat; the sheets are cold and slightly damp against my calves. I close my eyes and listen to the house. The slow huff of Splinter’s breath mingles with the warm hum from the dryer and Lettie snoring like a bear, with the noise from the docks just audible underneath.

DAY 45

TUESDAY

WE BOTH SLEEP in until seven twenty-five.

Well, it’s a sleep-in for me. I assume it is for Lettie too, based on the way she rushes around shouting about her clothes and her things and how people should leave well enough alone.

I get her things from the dryer. She snatches them off me but leaves your clothes on. I let her. Why not?

We eat breakfast in uncomfortable silence. There’s only toast. I don’t have enough milk left for more than two cups of tea. Lettie drinks hers, scowling, while I pull my uniform on. Should I offer her a toothbrush? She’s already packing her clothes into a green bag she’s found somewhere in the kitchen. Bugger her, then.

“Those people’ll be over soon. I’d better get going.”

“All right.”

She stops at the door. “Sorry I’m a bit testy.” She waves her hand in the direction of her house. “Thanks, Rae. It was nice to stay. You’re good company.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just used to being on my own.”

I nod.

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The door clicks shut behind her: the house is ours again. Splints sniffs at the front door and whines.

I turn the heating off. I sit at the kitchen table and watch the clock tick to 8:00 a.m. I pull out my homework. I’ve got forty-five minutes till I need to leave. Just enough time to do a perfectly unremarkable job.

IT’S A BAG dump, oil burner top-up and a quick hustle out the door when I get home. I reckon I’ve got about a ten-minute window before Oscar comes around. Splints is okay with the hurry. I’ve got his lead on and I’m stepping backward out the door when I bump into something. Worse than Oscar, it’s Lucy.

“Hi, Rae, is your mum home?”

“Oh, hi, Lucy.” I give her my brightest smile and pretend like I didn’t hear her question, pulling the front door firmly shut. Splinter bumps into her, forcing her back off the porch onto the front path. “We were just going for a walk.”

“Is your mum home? I just wanted to have a quick word.”

“Mum works late Tuesdays.”

There’s that frown again. “She leaves you alone?”