He’s right. It was the last thing I did before I left. I was scared he would empty the account. I didn’t trust him. And let’s face it, I’m the only one who puts money into the account. Every penny of it. His benefit is paid into his own account, not the joint one. So I knew he wouldn’t starve.

How did it become so ugly? Why didn’t I notice that his interest in me ratcheted up a few notches when he discovered that Pops had helped me to buy the house? Pops lived in the north, and when I told Ian that I planned to move away from London to be near him, he suggested that he should come with me. It seemed a good idea at the time – if only so that I wouldn’t be alone in a city where I knew no one.

Right now, though, I can’t find any words.

Ian breaks the silence. ‘So, the reason for this call is to give you notice. I’m going to start selling things to get my share of that money back. I’m starting with your jewellery box – all those ugly things of your mum’s that you so cherish. And when you get back, we’ll sort this out once and for all.’

The line goes dead.

I don’t think Joel is in any doubt that there has been a death in the family when he comes back into his office to find me, head down on folded arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Why hadn’t I thought about the jewellery? The clearing of the account had been a last-minute panic, and I hadn’t thought it through.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I mumble, wishing she was here to tell me what to do.

A box of tissues is pushed towards me, and I can feel Joel’s discomfort. He doesn’t seem sure whether he should sit down and talk to me or leave me alone. I take a deep breath and raise my head.

‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. What can I do to help?’

I want to ask him not to allow any more calls to be put through to me, but that will make no sense at all if my mother has died. I know my tears are those of frustration and anger, but he doesn’t.

He talks to me about whether I want to be taken back to Yangon and asks if they can organise a flight back to the UK for me. What am I supposed to say? I wipe my eyes and mutter something about the funeral not being for two weeks so I’m okay to stay and please don’t mention it to anybody.

Joel is silent, and I sense that he’s embarrassed.

‘What?’ I ask.