She looks at me like she’s trying to read my 164 mind or count the number of freckles on my nose. She’s concentrating. Assessing. I keep my face neutral as I zip up my coat. ‘Of course,’ she says, finally. ‘I’ll do that right now. Then hopefully you’ll be able to rest better tonight.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say. ‘See you later.’

I open the door and have one foot outside when she calls me back. ‘Just a minute, Lance.’ I turn to see her walking down the hallway. ‘I’m just getting something for you to take with you.’ She disappears into the kitchen, and I wait for what feels like an hour, trying not to nervously jiggle on the front doorstep. Finally, she comes back with a travel mug. ‘You haven’t had breakfast,’ she says. ‘So I want you to make sure you have all of this good soup.’

‘How did you make more soup?’ I say, trying not to display my internal horror on my face.

‘I can go without sleep for days, too,’ she smiles. ‘I got up early and wanted to keep busy.’

‘Wow,’ I say. ‘You really are feeling better.’

She holds out the travel mug.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Feel free to start making chocolate cakes when you want to keep busy, though. Just saying.’ I try not to let my hand shake 165 as I reach towards her to take the mug, and I’m focussing so hard that it slips between my fingers – a genuine accident rather than another terrible way of getting rid of unwanted, potentially sedative, spit-laced soup. As both me and Mum fumble to catch it, her fingertips brush the back of my hand, and when I say brush, I mean like literally brush, because her fingers are so rough, they’re like bristles scratching across my skin. Like the rough side of Velcro, in fact. ‘Oh man,’ I say, as I get a grip on the mug before it hits the floor. ‘That was close. Lucky we both have lightning reflexes.’

She’s looking at me in that way again, like she’s trying to see into the depths of my soul.

‘Would you mind if I share this with Kat?’ I say. ‘I’ll feel weird having it all to myself in front of her.’

‘Why not,’ Mum says. ‘The more the merrier, as they say.’

‘Exactly.’ I’m a few steps up the path now. I see Betty hiding behind the bins and I try to tell her with my eyes not to venture into the house. ‘Cheers, Mum. See you later.’

Then I turn, and walk, and I don’t look back. 166 Kat’s ready and waiting when I get to hers a few minutes later. It doesn’t look like she slept much either – there are dark circles around her eyes, and she’s yawning like a sleepy squirrel.