Mum sighed. ‘Boring things like taxes and food shopping. I miss being your age. Life felt . . . endless back then, so full of hope.’

‘Depressing much.’

‘True, true. More popcorn?’ she asked. ‘And a film? You can choose this time.’

‘Yeah!’ I said, and I could have sworn that I saw the turtle swim across the galaxy, its body made up of stars.

I look up at the stars now. I can’t see many, but a few stand out. The longer I stare and the further I walk, the smaller I feel. They’re spectacular.

Mum once told me that when we look at stars we are actually looking at the past. Maybe there’s a star out there somewhere from the exact year that Mum was my age. Maybe it’s seen her grow up, and it’ll watch me too, like our fairy godmother.

I want to hold the stars, to see them up close. I want to reach out my hand and grab them. Keep them in my pocket with the perfume, wear them round my wrist like the bracelet. Maybe then I’ll be closer to her.

I think back to the memory with Aminah and her mum, and try to find the exact stars they were charting. Then I see it. The tiger, and, right next to it, the heart.

They weren’t seeing different things at all, but looking at a different cluster of stars right next to one another. Tigerheart.

‘What constellation is that?’ I ask Dad, breaking the silence.

He squints to where I’m pointing. ‘I’m not sure,’ Dad admits. ‘Your mum is always better at this sort of thing than I am.’

He says it naturally, but I can sense him glancing at me, second-guessing his words.

‘Yeah,’ I eventually say. ‘She is, isn’t she?’

And, just like that, I know what I need to do to unlock the door.

The silver branches were right: I wasn’t ready. But I am now.

It’s not too late.

Chapter 38

Memories are strange.

Some blur into nothing but a haze of colour.

Some blend into others until all you can remember is the memory of a memory of a memory, and you don’t quite know where your imagination takes over.

And then there are other memories that are stark. It doesn’t matter how long ago they happened; you remember them as clearly as if you were reliving them each time.

That’s how I remember the day Mum was taken into hospital. But that’s a bad memory. Good memories have that effect too.

Charlotte: GIRLS!!!

Gini: . . .

Charlotte: We did it! Our entry made it to the final!

Izzy: :0

Gini: OMG! RING ME NOW.

It’s Saturday morning and Dad and I are about to go to the hospital to say goodbye to Mum.