The day before, when we were both in our bedroom packing, she accused me of going on about the holiday too much and stomped off in a huff. Totally unreasonable, because what else were you going to talk about when you were remembering your swimming costume and checking you had the right number of pairs of underpants? What else were you going to talk about when you were going to stay at the four-star Grand Hotel?

I managed to sleep all right, and then it was morning and our three new suitcases were waiting by the front door. Mum was checking all the plugs were unplugged and the windows were locked, and Ava was taking forever in the bathroom, like she thought she was about to get scouted to be a model or something.

Then the buzzer rang – it was Mark who’d got that fixed, having made sure he was in the flat for one of Mrs Elliott’s inspections. She’d been rather more receptive to him saying it should be sorted than she’d ever been to Mum.

Mark came hurrying upstairs to help us bring the cases down and joked about what we must have packed to make them so heavy. Mum looked as if she couldn’t quite believe her luck, to be jetting off on holiday with this man who loved her enough to take all of us away with him. And even Ava looked quite pleased with how life was treating her, for once.

She had clearly chosen her travelling outfit with care. She was wearing a strappy coral-coloured sundress that left most of her back and upper arms and chest exposed, and she looked very pretty in it and a lot older than sixteen. No, not just pretty, sexy, though that was a gross thing to have to think when you were looking at your sister. She certainly didn’t look like a schoolgirl who lived in a tiny flat in a boring London suburb.

Mum was wearing a yellow shirt and pale blue trousers and she looked summery and fresh, and I looked as cute as I was ever going to in a flowery blue-and-purple top and skirt, but there was no doubt that out of the three of us, all decked out in our new outfits, Ava was the most attention-grabbing.

Mark looked different too, in a blue polo shirt and white trousers. Impractical clothes, but if you couldn’t be impractical on holiday, when could you? He kissed Mum on the cheek and asked me if I was looking forward to flying for the first time. Then, without paying much attention to my reply, he turned to Ava and said, ‘Have you got a cardigan or something you can put on? It might get quite cool on the plane.’

‘Obviously I have,’ Ava said. ‘I’m not stupid.’

Mark didn’t look annoyed with her for being rude. He seemed hurt, but resigned. Like he was prepared to put up with pretty much anything from her. Almost as if he deserved to be rebuffed.