She’d enamelled it in a shimmering paint the colour of lapis lazuli. The flaws no longer showed. In her delicate strokes, as exact as the tiny brush of a portrait artist who specialises in miniatures, was a mother holding her baby. Their skin was bare, as if lit from within. The mother’s hair was a coating of amber, like mine, and matched her child’s.

‘Keep it with you,’ Milly said.

I kissed the stone. ‘Have you forgiven me for last week?’

‘Having a baby emergency is just about acceptable as an excuse. But sending my mother . . .’

I gulped, but nothing seemed to go down. She retrieved the water and I drank the rest.

‘I might forgive you someday,’ she said.

‘At least I have something to aim for.’ I rested my head on her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t talk to anyone. I’d been crying and crying. People caring made it worse. I hate how pathetic I’ve been about that total prick. I should have picked up when I saw it was you.’

‘That’s okay. I know you. I know that’s how you work.’

She stroked my hair. ‘Baby girl is okay?’

I nodded. My eyes filled with tears. ‘I saw the midwife yesterday. I’d read that my bump measurement should match the number of weeks, so I had a bit of a freak-out that the number was 27.5 centimetres and not 29.’

‘There must be a range of error.’

I nod. ‘She said give or take a couple of centimetres either side was fine.’

‘You see? You’re in range, then. Plus you’re slight to begin with. Are you resting enough?’

‘All the time. I’m going straight to bed when I get home.’

‘Good. Is Lord Voldemort behaving?’

I told her the truth. ‘No. He isn’t.’

‘What can I do?’

‘You can move into my house. It’s empty and it’s going to stay empty. You can live there and look after it for me and save up for your studio by not having to pay for this place. You can eradicate everything brown.’

‘May she rest in peace, but everything your grandmother chose was a different shade of shit.’

‘True.’ I hated lying to Milly about my grandmother’s death, but I still didn’t confess the truth. ‘So treat the walls as your canvas.’

‘I’m not a charity case, Holly.’

‘No. You’re my sister. You’re the only one I’ll ever have.’ I pressed an envelope into Milly’s hand. The papers inside were prepared by one of Maxine’s people, another of Maxine’s many proofs that doing this calmly and methodically, that taking enough time to set everything up before fleeing, was the right course of action. ‘This makes the arrangement legal. In case I’m not here. Any eventualities – it’s all you need.’

She put the envelope down without opening it. She was wrapping the tiny vase in bubble wrap. ‘Only if you take this too,’ she said. So I did.