‘You mean, you’d like your – Veronica – to be called Mum? But it doesn’t really matter what you call someone, does it? If they’re your mum, they’re your mum. Surely?’

Thea had missed the point completely. ‘No, I mean a mum like my friend Edward’s. She only works part-time and is always there after school. I would have gone to stay with them this weekend, only they’ve gone to see their granny. She makes cakes,’ he added.

Thea would very much have liked to probe further, to find out Ben’s feelings on all these topics, but she knew it would be wrong. Besides, Toby had given away lots of information already, without her having to torture him at all. She felt he deserved a reward. ‘Well, if I’ve got enough flour, we could make a cake, when we’ve done the pizzas.’

‘Could we? Ace!’

Later, when Toby was watching The Simpsons – probably prohibited viewing for seven-year-olds – licking out the chocolate cake bowl and Thea was clearing up, she reflected it was a good thing he liked cooking.

‘We have to wait until the cake’s a bit cooler to put the icing on, otherwise it’ll all fall off again,’ said Thea. ‘It’s happened to me lots of times.’

‘There’s rather a lot of icing, isn’t there?’ Toby was a little embarrassed. As always happens, the icing had got too wet and by the time it was the right consistency there was enough for a small wedding cake.

‘Don’t worry. We can freeze the rest and either use it next time anyone makes a cake, or I can eat it frozen, when I’ve got a chocolate craving on and haven’t got any.’

‘Oh. OK. Do you think it’s cool enough now?’

‘Not really, but put it on anyway. I can’t wait much longer. You do the icing. I’ll make tea. You need tea with chocolate cake, don’t you find?’

Toby had no opinion on this, took the palette knife and started spreading.

Later, teeth brushed, but no other obvious washing done, Toby pulled Petal’s sleeping bag up over his shoulders and snuggled down on the sofa in Thea’s room. ‘Why are there so many black bags in here?’ he asked.

‘I’m halfway through sorting out all my clothes and getting rid of the ones that don’t fit any more. I started before Christmas.’

‘Oh. Veronica always does hers twice a year. Spring and autumn. She sends her clothes to an agency and gets money for them.’

‘Oh.’ Thea sent hers to jumble sales and, only if they were good enough, offered them to a charity shop.

‘She says there’s only any point in keeping really classic clothes that won’t date.’

‘You know a lot about it, Toby. Far more than me.’

Toby sighed. ‘It’s not very interesting, though, is it?’