‘Oh my god. You went to Disneyland years ago! You’ve been nursing that wound all this time? Especially when it’s not true. Why would I ever say that? Besides, it’s my body Mum finds unacceptable. When my teenage bra cups did not runneth over, she said, “Unlike Emerald, you’ve got no tits, so you’d better make sure you keep your teeth nice.”’

‘What?’ Emerald baulked. ‘She told me to get a breast reduction to look more like you. Ugh. I loathe my big, pendulous Celtic breasts, inherited from her of course! I don’t know how Mum actually breastfed the two of you as her boobs are in my body.’ She looked down at her breasts, which were currently attempting to escape her nightdress in different directions.

‘And then she puts me in the middle to sort it all out,’ I sighed. ‘I’m like a human ping-pong ball, bouncing between the two of you. It’s bloody exhausting. And Mum’s vile to me too, you know. Just before my birthday, I suggested we go out somewhere, just the two of us, and have a lovely time . . . And do you know what she said? “I don’t want to have a lovely time, I just want to be with you.”’

‘Ouch.’ Amber winced. ‘But you’re her favourite, Ruby. Being the youngest and all . . . Well, you were, until your infamous birthday speech.’

‘Favourite? No, I’m just the most easily manipulated. I have no doubt I was a mistake – mostly because she’s often told me so. I honestly think she only had children in case she ever needed an organ donor.’

Emerald snorted. ‘It’s true. The woman makes Medea look like good mother material. Forget Child Disability Assistance, we need Mother Disability Assistance.’

‘Do you think it’s too late to put ourselves up for adoption?’ I suggested.

‘Yes, it’s not as though we don’t have good grounds. Remember when I gave up smoking?’ Amber inquired. ‘I thought Mum would be so terribly proud of my achievement, but do you know what she said? “Just have one more and see if it sticks.”’

‘She did exactly the same thing to me when I tried to go on a diet,’ griped Emerald. ‘She put a plate of chocolates and a sponge cake on the table and said, “Dieters invariably put on weight, so it’s best to just carry on as normal. Go on, you know you want to.”’

‘Mum’s manipulated us all. It’s a classic divide-and-conquer tactic. At least we know to buy her some worming tablets and flea powder for Christmas, as she’s such a bitch. So now we’ve cleared that up, can we call a truce?’ I suggested.

Amber’s smooth cheek twitched. Emerald thumped a sofa cushion – Bam! Bam! Bam! – then said, ‘Yes, okay. A truce.’ She placed her nail polish bottle on the table and extended her unpainted hand to Amber.