Molly was shelling a prawn with quick, practised movements, expertly peeling off the shell in one go. She seemed so at ease in this adult conversation, far more so than Tara could ever remember being, even though she’d passed around her fair share of canapés at Ruth and Keith’s drinks parties. She felt a tingle of envy, and then wondered whether Molly’s adult assurance was actually anything to be jealous of.

‘Are you still in the same room you’ve always had here?’ Molly looked up, head tilted curiously, a gesture very like Keith’s. ‘Is it exactly the same?’

Tara started to say yes, when she realized only the view was the same. And yet it still felt exactly like her room.

Keith mistook her hesitation for emotion. ‘Tara’s only been back here for a few months, darling. Her mum lived here on her own for a long time. It’s not the same as your room at home.’ He glanced at her, to check he’d got it right.

‘On her own? Wasn’t she lonely?’ Molly started, but Tara said quickly, ‘No, she wasn’t lonely. Her best friend lived upstairs. And my room’s totally different to the way it was. My mum loved decorating, she was always changing things around. My old room’s probably been four different colours since I was your age. Maybe more!’

‘My room is exactly the same,’ said Molly firmly. ‘Mummy’s not allowed to move anything. Ever. She’s promised.’

‘You might want to one day, Molly. You might fancy a change!’

‘But Dad …’

‘Never say never, sweetheart,’ said Keith, and Molly pouted.

Tara reached for her glass, but it was empty, and Keith pounced on the opportunity to change the subject.

‘The tide’s out – can’t have that!’ he said, reaching for the jug. ‘Who wants some more pressé?’ He’d already stood up, so the question seemed to be answered. ‘I’m going to get some more. Don’t you two talk about me while I’m gone.’

Silence fell between Molly and Tara while he walked over to the studio. Then as Tara was racking her brains for a suitable topic of conversation, Molly started chattering away again.

‘Mum and Lloyd and I have always lived in Waldegrove Road. Dad lived with us until I was two but I don’t remember that.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘No. It’s all right though. He comes and visits and it means we’ve got a spare room for if friends want to stay over.’

‘I see.’

‘And I never want to move anyway.’

‘Tell me your favourite things about your room, then.’

‘My rainfall shower,’ she said, counting on her fingers. ‘Then my daybreak light, then Lloyd’s bed. It’s exactly the same as mine, but smaller. Oh, and my balcony – we grow sunflowers on it. Do you want to know what else we’ve grown in the garden?’