The Miller–Thomson truce is a brand-new shiny thing that could be tarnished with a few harsh words or one incident, I suspect. With Aunty May now officially the elder of their mob, rumours are that she and Pop are talking and that might be enough to rein in our two families. I’ll reserve judgement – grudges aren’t called that because they’re easy to give up, on either side.

‘Still not goin to talk, ay? Well, I’ve decided I’m good with it,’ Laney says.

A suspicious eye cracks open.

‘I mean, if ya can’t talk, then ya can’t talk back right? No sarcastic comments. No bitchiness to deal with. My life just got that much more peaceful.’

My middle finger comes up and I scratch my nose with it.

‘Ay, is this how we’ll communicate now?’

The other eye opens and I give her the foulest look until she throws up her hands.

‘I’m just warnin ya I intend to take full advantage when I get out tomorrow.’

I roll my eyes. Reaching up I shut her eyes and close my own. I am sleeping a lot lately. Nobody has mentioned school yet and I’m not in a rush to go back to Cassie and her shit. I spend so much time in bed now they might have to change my name to Laney. The only good news is she’s coming home tomorrow. They’d kept her in here to assess her mental wellbeing as well as get her back to full health. Almost a week with a little water, and what was probably raw grubs and bugs to keep her breathing, and she was not in great shape.

I’ll be glad to get her home, mostly for her, but also to get Mum off my back. She can hover all over Laney for a while. I thought she’d been over-protective before this; that was nothing compared to now.

I am anticipating some intense fights between Mum and Laney very soon. You can’t cage a Thomson woman unless she wants you to.

A gentle kiss on my forehead makes me sigh.

‘Love you,’ she whispers.

I squeeze her hand and we lie together like that.

The door creaks and I jump. Reminding myself again that I am in a brightly lit room during daylight hours. I look up to see Sam holding the door open for Aunty May. She’s out of her nighties and old jeans these days, replacing them with long skirts, bright blouses and a wide-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle. Her eyes sparkle under that brim, alive and clear in a way that makes me glad to see her. I hop up to greet them.

‘Hello, niece,’ May exclaims, opening her arms so I can come in for a cuddle and kiss. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Niece?’ Laney chokes.