‘The row we had the morning he left has been playing on my mind.’ She shrugs off her coat and steps through to the kitchen to hang it on the back of the door. ‘And that woman that came in here. Do you think she was right?’

‘Hey, don’t let that crazy bat get to you. You’ve been doing so well up till now.’

It bothers her to think that her belongings might become muddled with items from the shop. It could easily happen, and she wouldn’t necessarily know about it until it was too late. She’s always found it difficult to part with things. Their loft is jammed full of boxes from her past. Adam owns almost nothing. When he moved in, he had a small bag full of clothes, a pair of trainers, but not much else.

She fills the kettle. Maybe it was too soon for him to settle down. She’s been too demanding. One child should be enough. Some people can’t have any. Why did she want more? Greedy, always wants more. Her father’s voice booms in her head. She sees her tiny hand scoop up jellybeans from a cut-glass bowl, him crushing her wrist until she dropped them. For days afterwards, her hand was useless, like a grabber machine at the seaside unable to grasp the teddy.

Rob leans across the counter. ‘Have you actually spoken to him? I mean he’s always staying away without contacting you.’

She hates that he’s so pleased. He passes her the milk. She takes the lid off and sniffs. The sourness hits the back of her throat and almost makes her retch. She tips it down the sink, its whiteness swirling, leaving an opaque film over the tea stains. The fridge door sticks as she pulls it open. It’s empty except for Rob’s lunchtime can of Coke. She is sure they had more milk.

‘I’ll go and get some,’ he says. ‘I need to call in at the bookies.’

She tries to smile. ‘It’s okay, I’ll have it without.’

‘In that case, I’ll go and sort the shoes out before my break.’ He checks his watch.