‘I did consider it, actually. I decided that the best option would be to move out.’

‘And you didn’t think to mention this to me?’ The question was forced through stiff lips, the words hoarse.

‘I didn’t want to worry you until I was sure.’

‘Oh! So you’re sure?’ She kept patting and rubbing her chest, as though comforting a fractious baby. ‘Well. There’s not much point discussing it then, is there?’

In the next instant, her face collapsed, and she let out a long, all-too-familiar moan.

I don’t know how I managed it, but I simply looked straight at her and said, ‘No.’

Karina jerked her head towards me. I caught her gaze, and she gave the tiniest of nods.

Mum, taken completely aback, paused mid-chest-rub, her mouth drooping open.

‘You can have, once again, some conveniently timed chest pains. You can call an ambulance, and I will come with you if, instead of making the usual miraculous recovery, the paramedics decide you need to be admitted. I will do whatever is reasonable as a daughter, in the unlikely event that you turn out to be genuinely ill. But I am still moving out. I’m twenty-nine. You can’t keep me here forever.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You can stay here, alone, which is a perfectly valid option if that’s what you want. Or, you can offer a home to your good friend in urgent need of a room to rent. Either way, I’m moving out at the weekend.’

The only sounds were Mum’s uneven breaths and the rumbling of a lawnmower in a nearby garden. A prickle of sweat ran down my back. This was the first time I had stood up to Mum like this. I had run headlong into uncharted territory, with no idea where it would lead.

‘What do you say, my friend?’ Karina spoke, her voice soft, eyes gentle. ‘Team Trina, telling that evil whatshisname on Coronation Street what for, needles clacking, a packet of Jaffa Cakes to share?’ Emboldened by Mum looking up, an ocean of pain and confusion in her eyes, Karina reached across and took her hand. ‘Let your girl go and be a woman, Tina. She’s going either way, but if she leaves without your blessing, you may lose her altogether.’

‘I can’t… I won’t…’ She lurched to her feet, fleeing into the house and clattering up the stairs to her bedroom, the door slamming behind her.

I called Aunty Linda while Karina cleared away the meal. It took a full three days of heart-wrenching conversations, tears and accusations, but we got there. I didn’t have my mother’s blessing, not by a long shot, but we had her name on a rental agreement for Karina, all important bills and accounts back in her name, and we only had to call the GP out once.