‘Jamie?’

‘He was always so sure he was right, too. That’s why he never came home after your row.’

Maddy’s eyes are welling with tears. She ends the call, unable to speak. It hurts too much that Lisa is right.

19

A Sliver of Hope

Tor, with the help of Arek and Maddy, has set up the mobile food bank by the Meeting Place café on the seafront in Hove. Tor rotates the food bank in different locations around the city, but this one is closest to home. It’s dark already and the moonlight glows on the black sea in the distance. It’s hard to believe that they swim in there.

There are a few cars on the main esplanade, their lights blurring in the rain. An ambulance wails. She notices groups of people slinking out of the shadowy streets across the road.

She smiles across at Maddy. It’s so sweet that she’s come again. She came with Claire last week, but Claire has an online parents evening so Maddy has come by herself. Tor had had Maddy down as someone who wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty, but she’s been incredibly helpful.

‘Where did this all come from?’ Maddy asks, nodding to the sturdy green crates that they’ve unloaded from the van. She’s wearing no make-up and a long Puffa and a hat, as she joins Tor behind the trestle table.

‘From the supermarkets. They’re really helpful with our initiative.’ Tor picks up a can of soup and turns it round. It’s Chunky Hearty Cheeseburger Soup. ‘Never tried this, though. Not sure that’s on the top of my go-to list. Looks like a liquidised McDonald’s. It can’t be that nutritious.’

‘It’s so awful that so many people rely on food banks,’ Maddy says. ‘I thought we were supposed to be a first world country? I never knew about all this and it’s really quite shocking.’

‘Never knew, or never chose to notice?’ Tor says, wondering if she sounds rude, but she finds it easy to be direct with Maddy.

‘Well, yeah, fair enough. The latter, I guess. My friends would never believe this.’

‘Why?’

Maddy pauses, as if searching for the right answer. ‘If I’m honest because they’re like I was.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s easy to be judgemental when you’re insulated in a home with an electric gate. I tell you, though, seeing this, I feel every bit the privileged white middle-class woman with absolutely no idea about what’s really going on.’

‘We’re all only ever a couple of steps away from being homeless,’ Tor says, then she waves at Vic who is coming down the pavement. ‘Hey, Vic. Are you all right?’

‘Chilly. I hate the rain. It’s a long haul until summer.’

‘I know. But the brighter days are coming.’ Tor tries to be encouraging.

‘I guess we’ve nearly done January,’ Vic says. ‘My mate Scotty was going to come, but he’s already on the whiskey he’s been saving for Burn’s Night. You don’t have any haggis, do you?’