And there it was, that slight uneasiness I’d picked up about him before, that might or might not be guilt. Something he carried round with him that he was far from comfortable with.

‘Just thought I’d mention it, especially as you haven’t flown before,’ he said.

He picked up Mum’s case and reached for the next biggest, which was Ava’s, but she beat him to it.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said.

Mark let her, but turned to Mum and said warningly, ‘Don’t lift a finger. I’ll be back in a sec.’

Ava and Mark went off down the stairs to the taxi. Mum suddenly went over to the kitchen sink and leaned over it as if she was about to be sick. I said, ‘Are you all right, Mum?’ but she ignored me.

When she straightened up she was very pale, almost greenish, and her skin was beaded with tiny drops of sweat.

‘I’m not feeling too good,’ she said.

‘Are you going to be all right on the journey?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Have you told Mark?’

‘Oh, yeah. He knows. Don’t worry, Ellie, I’m sure it’ll pass. It’s not going to stop me going.’

I was so relieved by this I didn’t question it. At that stage, the very worst thing I could imagine was us not being able to go on that holiday because Mum was ill. It didn’t occur to me to wonder what was wrong with her, or what it might mean for the rest of us if it was something she couldn’t shake off.

On the plane I read about a ghost.

Mark had offered to buy us all magazines, a luxury that Mum wouldn’t normally have considered. Ava had said no, typical Ava being awkward. It seemed like she was still being weird about accepting gifts from Mark, even though he’d paid for everything she was wearing. Mum had picked out a glossy fashion magazine with an amazing picture on the front of a very tall, very elegant model in a turban and a short silver chain-mail dress, walking barefoot on a beach with a tiger on a leash. But she wasn’t reading it. She was sound asleep. I couldn’t see her – she was sitting in front of me – but I could hear her: soon after take-off she’d started snoring.

Ava was in the windowseat on my right, staring sullenly out at the view of clouds over the English Channel. I didn’t know why she didn’t just plug herself into her earphones and listen to her music, which was what she usually did if she wanted to shut everyone out. It was like she was determined to be bored.

I had just started Wuthering Heights – one of Mark’s red books. It was sort of hard-going, but I loved it even if I didn’t understand it all, and I was so proud of myself for reading it that there was no way I was going to give up. Besides, I wanted everyone to notice it. Maybe eventually they’d take me seriously, for a change.