Amy reaches for my hand and squeezes it, and I flash back to when her dad did the same. When he shook my hand, he was warning me. He held it too hard and too long. But Amy’s grip is only just there, sitting in my palm so gently that I can’t tell where her skin ends and mine begins. She’s happy again, and I wish that was the end of it. I wish I didn’t have this nagging doubt. Because, if there were no holes and no words and no carvings, if there was no creepy brother and no icy warnings to spur me on, I could fall in love with her.

My head spins at the thought, but it’s true. Amy is amazing. There are moments with her when I understand why Mum and Dad framed that raffle ticket and why they clung to the magic until it leaked through the cracks.

When I’m with her, I feel. But I can’t let that win until I know if I’m making a mistake. I would hate myself forever if the first girl I fell for was in trouble, and I chose to ignore it. If I can convince Amy to trust me, she might invite me back to her house. And, if she does, I won’t waste my second chance to help.

63

I’m so tired after school that I dump my bag in the hall and am on the third stair before Mum calls, “Tom. Come in here, please.”

That’s the voice she uses when she wants to impress someone, and I hear another voice I can’t quite place, then my mother’s nervous laugh. It’s only when my hand is on the kitchen door that I realize who’s behind it. I could leave, but the door is already creaking open.

Mum turns and says, “Hi, darling. Good day at school?”

I don’t answer, because Amy’s mother is sitting opposite her, a cup of tea in her hand and a fixed smile on her face.

“Look who’s here,” Mum says.

Jane says, “Well, how often do you get the chance to revisit your old house for a cuppa?”

Mum laughs, but she doesn’t mean it. I can tell she’s thrown by this visit and is hoping Jane doesn’t judge her for the unwashed plates and the pile of clothes that it’s Nia’s job to sort.

First Amy comes over unannounced, now her mother. But this feels different. After the warning on our car, I can’t help wondering…

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Jane says, and, while Mum thanks her, I can see the sarcasm in her eyes.

“We haven’t changed much,” Mum says. “You did such a good job decorating.”