‘It’s true.’

Titch drinks. She knows Paula is right. She knows that it isn’t quite nerves that she’s feeling, but that she’d be hard put to find a word for it. The wine glitters in the glass, her fingers resting on the thin stem and touching the underside of the curved bowl.

‘I do envy you,’ she tries.

Paula raises an eyebrow.

‘I do!’ she says, laughing. ‘It must be so rewarding. Teaching and knowing you’re making a difference.’

Paula’s face is fixed in light irony. ‘No, I’m serious,’ says Titch, her hand resting on Paula’s. ‘You know I am.’

She squeezes the hand under hers, leaning forward, trying to show how serious she is. She smiles warmly at her sister-in-law.

That night, Titch lies in the bed in Paula’s spare room. She has the window open, even though the northern air is hard and cold and flutters in though the gap with the wind off the moors. She loves to come here. It feels far.

Her mother used to leave the windows open in all weather. She said that condensation was bad for you. She had a brisk certainty about these things.

Next year, Titch will be fifty. She remembers her mother at fifty.

Under her duvet, the heat of her body pools into a pocket of warmth. Her cheeks are cold, but she bundles the duvet high over them. She feels both old and young. She is tired, and so much older than those around her, but she cannot be as old as her mother was at fifty.

In dreams she sees her. They talk, but she has no idea what she is saying.

Paula has already gone into school by the time Titch gets up. Titch is due to meet her there at eleven. Over breakfast, her fingers skip restlessly across the surface of her phone. Her nervous eyes register the time.

She checks emails, texts. She checks Instagram.

Out of the kitchen window a tall tree threshes in the wind against a blue sky.

She wonders how true it was, what she said, as she gathers her things, as she climbs into the car. Adjusts the mirrors. Rests her hands on the upper curve of the wheel. Words have a way of sticking, once you’ve said them. She wonders if maybe she really does envy her sister-in-law.

The school is a grey building, square and unappealing. Paula meets Titch at reception. She holds out a hand in greeting.

Titch is slightly put out.

‘Thanks for doing this,’ Paula says. Serious, then a smile cracks her face. Her cheeks are red. ‘It’s a little strange, isn’t it?’

Titch smiles too and holds Paula’s hand in both of hers. ‘I’ve never really pictured you actually in school,’ she says.

She giggles.

Paula gives another fractional smile, then snaps her gaze towards the door, all business.