Georgia dropped teabags in four mugs, spooned two sugars and instant coffee in another, then waited as the first steam wafted from the kettle spout. They were all talking in the living room: Mum, Dad, Uncle Phil, Nan, Auntie Michelle and the widow from next door who’d come knocking with a tin of rock cakes.

It turned out they’d been lying to Georgia. She’d known about Sophie being suspended from work, but everyone was like, There’ll be an investigation – Sophie made an honest mistake, but they have to follow procedures before she goes back to work. But now her mum was riding a guilt trip and truth was spewing forth. We should have done more … Helped Sophie with her debts. Paid for Sophie to see a private psychiatrist instead of waiting six weeks … Gone over there to make sure Sophie was eating properly … The pills the GP put her on made her drowsy all the time and she should have come back to live with me after she took the overdose.

Georgia had messaged her sister every day. She’d thought they were tight, but apparently, she knew nothing.

Just a kid …

As Georgia filled the mugs with boiling water, she relived an incident six weeks back. Sophie didn’t answer any messages for a day and a half. Afterwards, Sophie said her phone had been stolen. But the next time Georgia saw her sister, she could tell Sophie had the same phone from the crack in the screen.

At the time, Georgia thought it was weird that Sophie hadn’t mentioned getting her phone back. But now Georgia connected the dots. Sophie wasn’t answering her messages on the same day her dad suddenly had a really important meeting and Auntie Michelle came round to make dinner …

Georgia finished making the drinks, found half a pack of chocolate digestives and had to look in four cupboards to find the big tray to carry it all through.

‘Thank you, angel,’ Georgia’s nan said as she took her mug.

Georgia’s mum was in the armchair by the living room window, the floor around her dotted with make-up-smeared tissues.

Her dad was the practical one. He had his iPad out, looking up how to obtain a death certificate, while Uncle Phil watched over him from the arm of the sofa.

Georgia felt deceived and couldn’t stand the little room packed out with family. They’d protected her from the truth because they cared, but it also showed that they thought of her as a child. Georgia imagined text messages and late-night phone calls. Everyone talking about what Georgia should know and how she’s already been through enough this year with the divorce.

‘Where are you off to now, Cookie?’ Georgia’s dad asked, thumping an empty spot on the sofa. ‘Come sit by your old man.’