‘I was curious. He was one of those kids you wonder where he’ll end up. It’s a big bit of my job, taking real people and then making up endings. Sometimes I’ll think about someone I once knew and decide how their story ended and then look them up just to see if I was right.’

‘Oh my God, that’s so weird.’

‘I’m good at it!’

‘No, you need a better hobby than Facebook-stalking people to see if you’re good at making up stories.’

‘Fine. Get me a basketball for my birthday.’

Maisie looks up. ‘I actually thought for a moment you might be thinking of going on a date. And I was like … good! At last.’

‘I’m not against dating. I’m just really busy.’

‘Yeah, but soon all the women your age …’

‘My age? I’m only thirty-two!’

‘Yes, like I said, soon women your age are going to be getting married and having kids …’

‘Jumped the gun there, did I?’

‘Mum. You need to get in there before all the good ones get taken. Go on a date again.’

Maisie takes the plate of bread from her mum’s hands and kisses her cheek. ‘And don’t mess it all up by saying you’ve got a daughter. I know that’s a buzzkill. Get them hooked first, and then drop the clanger that is me.’

‘Begin with a lot of lying?’

‘That’s how online dating works! A lot of small lies, big exaggerations and some massive omissions, like: I’ve got a teenage daughter.’

‘And when I bring them over?’

‘Say I’m the maid.’

Becky laughs now, right from the gut. It feels like it has set off chemicals through her brain and soul.

‘I’m just saying, you don’t always need to be so honest from, like, the first minute.’

‘Thanks for the advice,’ Becky says. ‘You’re too wise.’

‘So.’ Maisie picks up a slice of bread and for a moment gets distracted by some sticky blackcurrants tumbling off the side. ‘I’ve given you excellent advice, cheered you up … quid pro quo.’

Becky knows exactly what’s coming and she can’t help it but she laughs again – all that confidence and persistence Maisie has. Armour against the bad things that will surely happen to her.

‘So can I go to the sleepover?’

‘Where is it?’ Becky leans against the kitchen cupboard and folds her arms, smiling.

‘Not far. Islington.’

‘Whose house?’

‘Jules’ house. Lily and Eva are going as well.’ Maisie is braiding a long section of hair now, eyes focused on her work and evading her mother’s searching gaze.

‘Is Jules a boy or a girl?’

‘He’s a boy from school.’

‘Is he someone’s boyfriend?’

‘Lily likes him.’

‘And who does Jules like?’

‘Oh my God. This isn’t healthy. You need to be dating.’

‘Don’t avoid the question.’