I am this close to telling her that there is no way I can stomach food, but then I see Mum’s chewed-up nails, shut my mouth and let the woman cook. According to Alana Thomson, nail biting is a nasty, dirty habit. She probably feels that way because she only ever does it when she’s stressed to the max about something.

‘Can I help?’ I ask.

‘Grab out the things from the fridge and start choppin up the mushrooms, ay?’

Thomson women are never ones to wallow granddaughter, gotta keep moving, just keep moving. Ask any black woman, no time to sit and cry about the tough stuff when there’s kids to feed. Nan’s words echo in my head and, for the first time in a long while, I’m glad.

We work that way for a while, getting everything ready. At some point Uncle Joe drifts in. He doesn’t look like he’s slept much either.

We eat in silence, each of us thinking about the day ahead. Mum calls in to work and tells them not to expect her for the rest of the week. Uncle Joe calls his boss too, then takes some of the supplies out to his car. While he is gone I realise Mum is staring at me.

‘What?’

‘Daughter, I want you to go to school today.’

‘What?’

Mum winces. ‘Don’t hit that note, I’ve got a headache. I’m serious. I want you to go to school.’

‘But why? It’s not like I’ll be able to focus on anythin and I want to help find Laney!’

Again she winces, although I’m not too sure why this time.

‘I know, daught, and part of me wants you with us. But a bigger part of me wants you safe where I know, no matter what, at least one of my children is okay.’

Her voice breaks and I feel instant guilt. I stomp on it.

‘I need to help, Mum. Please don’t get all over-protective on me, not about this!’

When tears start to leak out of her eyes I know I’ve pushed too hard.

‘I know I’m over-protective, but you know why.’ She waves a hand at the photos of Dad on the fridge. ‘And with Laney …’ Her breath catches and she nearly chokes on the words. ‘Please, daughter, please just stay safe for me.’

Uncle Joe walks back in and takes one look at Mum’s tears. He turns on me with fury in his eyes.

‘What did you do to your mother?’

‘Nuthin, she’s the one doin shit.’

‘Watch ya mouth,’ they both bark.

Uncle puts his hands on his hips. ‘Tace, you will do as your mother tells you.’

I stare at him in shock, usually Uncle can be trusted to help ease Mum’s fears, not back up her crazy.

‘But Uncle—’