‘Right.’ I’d always enjoyed food tech and, even though I gave it up in Year Nine, I felt I knew more than she did about this. I stood beside her and looked at the book. ‘What are we making?’

She pushed it towards me. ‘Veg chilli. Good for the baby.’

I bit my lip. Veg chilli had been one of Mum’s dishes. She’d often made it, and although we’d moaned about the mushrooms and pepper, the lack of meat, we’d loved it. Mountains of cheddar cheese on top, melting into it. Sour cream and (if we were lucky) guacamole on the side. We used to have it at least once a week, when Mum was well.

I was annoyed with myself for wanting to cry again. I had cried absolutely loads about her, had sat in front of counsellors without being able to find any words, had talked endlessly with Sasha and even Ms Duke, and now we both knew we had to get on with it. I couldn’t sit around crying any more.

Who was I kidding? Sasha put her arms round me and, even though she was so much shorter, I let her look after me, just for a moment. Then I patted her shoulder, patted the baby and managed to say, ‘Yeah. Vegetable chilli. Good idea. Vitamins.’ I pushed her gently aside, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and started chopping red onions, since I was crying already.

We hadn’t talked about the anniversary. I didn’t know how we were supposed to get through it.

Later, we sat side by side on the sofa, watching a cooking programme and eating bowls of chilli that wasn’t as good as Mum’s, but that was, nonetheless, acceptable. The cheese was melting. The peppers were a bit burnt, and there was no guacamole because of course we didn’t have an avocado. However, it was the best thing we’d eaten for ages. Most nights we had variations of things on toast. Beans, usually, or peanut butter, and then a banana or apple to make it healthy.

‘Do you think,’ I said, watching men shovelling food into their mouths on the screen. ‘Do you think I should make a doctor’s appointment? I’m still seeing the …’ I stopped. I didn’t want to say ghosts. They weren’t ghosts.

‘The hallucinations?’ said Sasha. ‘Oh, poor Arry. Yeah, maybe you should see a doctor. Why not? I mean, they’ll say it’s stress, and it probably is, but I know that sounds patronizing. You didn’t mention it when you were having the counselling?’