‘This house is full of cracks. They’re worst at the front. Dad said the old lady who lived here before them told him a bomb fell on the house across the road during the Second World War.’

‘This is actually crumbling away, though. I’ve never seen anything so bad. When was it built, 1930s?’

‘Yes, 1933, I think. Dad said something about the glue they used back then wasn’t very good.’

‘So the plaster wouldn’t stick to the brickwork.’

‘Something like that.’ Maddy picked a chunk out of the wall. ‘Mum pretended the cracks weren’t there. If we pointed one out to her she’d say: There are no cracks in my walls.’ She gave a half-hearted laugh and followed the jagged line with her finger. ‘He papered over them. Do you know she’d really lost it by the end? I think the anger kept her alive.’

Max didn’t know what to say. Her parents sounded as fucked up as his.

‘I’d better take this chair out. I don’t want it getting damaged,’ she said.

‘I can do that.’ He picked it up.

‘It’s an Arts and Crafts piece,’ Maddy said, following him into the sitting room. He carefully placed it against the wall. ‘Mum loved it.’

‘You’re wasted in that cafe. You should have been an antiques dealer.’

‘Mmm, maybe. I didn’t really have a choice.’

‘Why was that?’

‘I had to keep an eye on Mum, look after her. I ended up being her carer and taking over the cafe soon after I left school.’

‘So the cafe was her business originally?’

‘Yes. Both my parents ran businesses, but unfortunately it meant they didn’t spend enough time with each other.’

‘What do you really want to do? You have a choice now, surely?’

‘I have been wondering about selling up.’

‘It would set you free. You can do what you like now.’

‘I suppose I can. Look, why don’t I fix us something for lunch while you carry on here?’

‘Yeah, great.’

‘I’ve got Lincolnshire sausages from the butcher and some fresh white rolls. Does that sound good?’ She gave him one of her warm smiles that made all his bad thoughts melt to nothing.

‘Sounds perfect.’ He smiled back, letting his eyes sweep over her. She’d started wearing a bit of make-up, not too much, not tarty, but it really suited her, made her even more gorgeous. Lately, when he got back to his lodgings in the evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How crazy was that when he was with her every single day? But it was real, it made his chest ache with longing. He hadn’t known anyone apart from Gran who was so straightforward and kind. For a second he fought the urge to pull her to him and kiss her. But he needed to pick his moment, not scare her off.