Wendy’s keys were due to be handed over in two weeks’ time, but there were various items that still needed to be moved out. Nikki had already trawled through the property, taking what she wanted to remember her mother by, but Kelly had avoided it. Ted had said he’d go with her, and finally they’d found time. Not going in alone appealed to Kelly, and she felt better equipped with the two men by her side. It wasn’t that she was in danger of breaking down; it was more that she didn’t know how she’d react to being inside the lifeless property without her mother in it. She was scared of the silence more than the threat of hysterics. In a way, she wished her sister would turn up and throw things, bemoaning her misfortune. It would offer a diversion from the realisation that soon they wouldn’t be able to visit their childhood home. When she considered it properly, though, she knew that she wanted her last experience of the tiny terrace to be peaceful.

They drove in silence and the reason for their gathering sat heavily inside the car, their delight about seeing one another fading. Johnny munched hungrily on his ham and cheese baguette, while Ted ate an oat biscuit. As they approached the street, familiarity mixed with strangeness swept over Kelly. Even the facade of the house looked different. Her stomach churned over and Johnny reached from the back seat to squeeze her shoulder. Ted took out a handkerchief and dabbed the corners of his eyes.

Johnny got out of the car first and closed his door. Kelly turned to Ted.

‘I wish you’d got back together earlier and enjoyed more time.’

‘You have no idea how much I agree with that,’ he said. His eyes were red and she reached out to take his hand. Johnny waited outside, allowing them to take their time. Finally they got out of the car and Kelly found the keys.

Once inside, she instantly wanted to run away. The smell was the thing she hadn’t expected. It was her mother – her hair, her perfume, her clothes: her whole memory was etched into the fabric of the place. She put her hand up to her mouth and turned away from Ted and Johnny. Her eyes took in the furniture and trinkets still standing in their places. She saw nothing obvious that she wanted to keep: just everything.

‘I don’t know what to take.’ It was a simple statement.

‘You said you might pack everything and take your time with it,’ Johnny said helpfully. ‘You can keep it at mine until you’re ready to decide. It’s maybe too early.’

‘When do you hand over the keys?’ Ted asked.

‘Two weeks.’ She turned away from them, predictably unexpected tears stinging her eyes.