She passed her own mother’s nursing home and felt the familiar pull of filial duty. She overrode it and had almost reached her front door before guilt got the better of her and she doubled back. Why did she feel any loyalty to the woman who had spent a lifetime traducing and belittling her? It made no sense at all.

But Lucy was a shadow of her normal self today. She sat in an armchair, facing the window, gazing out into the darkness. ‘Hi, Mum,’ Kate said, as she installed herself in a corner of the window seat beside her.

‘Hello, my love.’ Her smile was full of quiet warmth. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘Glad I stopped by, then. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you. And I’m pleased you came. I’m so sorry for the things I said in Cornwall. I don’t know what got into me.’

Kate stared at the floor. Her mother had resolutely refused to seek any psychiatric or psychological help over the years, determined to view even the suggestion she might as a sign – or, rather, an accusation – of weakness. It was impossible to be certain whether she was a depressive, or bipolar, or was dragging around some other psychological disorder, but the speed with which she oscillated between two entirely opposing personalities still took Kate’s breath away. And even now, after all these years, she couldn’t help the rush of warmth she felt at even the slightest expression of love or affection.

‘I know I’ve made it hard for you and I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right, Mum.’ It wasn’t, of course, not by the longest shot. But what else could she say?

‘I think your aunt Rose brings out the worst in me.’

That wasn’t true: her mother was capable of being equally poisonous at all other times, but she let that ride as well. ‘I don’t know why,’ Kate said.

‘She’s always wanted to think of you as her own child.’

‘She does her best to look after me.’ If there was an accusation in that, it was designed to stop her mother in her tracks.

Lucy nodded, as if to acknowledge this. ‘All right. I don’t want to pick a fight. I know she’s the mother you never had. But she’s more competitive than she lets on and I’m never certain she’s as generous – or perhaps I mean as straightforward – as she appears.’