She nods and his face falls. She should have thought about this before. ‘But you can have them.’

‘You sure?’ he asks, already pulling them close, ‘I appreciate that.’

She looks away, doesn’t want to cry. ‘I kept some of your mum’s things. They’re in my attic. Photos of us on nights out, wearing too much make-up and bad fancy dress. Also, her collection of botanical postcards, her books, they’re mostly on ethics, feminism and that sort of stuff. Silly I kept them but she’s annotated almost every page in some. I’ve had all this stuff for a long time. You should have it now. If you want it, of course.’ She treads carefully. ‘I never got round to giving any of it to your dad.’

He pulls a few papery napkins from the silver dispenser at the end of the table, hands them to her and looks away as she wipes her eyes. ‘This is exactly what I thought of when I contacted you.’

‘What? That I’d be this blubbering wreck.’ The tears are so unexpected. The last time she cried was almost a year ago, when her dad was cured of prostate cancer. It was from relief more than anything. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, embarrassed.

‘For what?’ He holds the photos inches from his face and smiles again. ‘This is amazing. That already you’re showing me photos of Mum I’ve never seen before. Telling me stuff I’ve never heard. Like, I didn’t know she collected botanical postcards or that she was really into ethics.’

‘She wasn’t,’ Yvonne says. ‘She fancied the lecturer.’

Kiama laughs. ‘Now it’s getting good.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No one ever tells me anything of interest about her. I like that she had an inappropriate crush on a teacher.’

The music stalls as an announcement calls time on the session. Yvonne fully dries her eyes and tucks the napkins into her bag.

‘I still don’t understand it,’ she says. ‘Why go back there? It sounds like such a bad idea.’

‘I have to,’ he says.

‘But what’s behind you wanting to go? Has someone recommended it to you? A therapist or something?’

Kiama pulls back. ‘I don’t have a therapist, Yvonne. This is from me. It’s what I want. And honestly, I don’t fully know why, I just know I have to. That it’s what I need to do.’