“Maybe he’s not that into botanical art? Or maybe he was just trying to play it down?”

“I don’t know why. If my family had worked for a famous artist, I’d be telling everyone!”

“Not everyone’s a super-book-nerd like you, though, babe.”

“Granted. But even so. I mean, he’s got an original painting on his sitting room wall for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah, but if it was his parents’, then maybe he keeps it for its sentimental value rather than its artistic merit.”

“I guess,” Nory agreed halfheartedly.

They came to the bottom of the lane and Noel and Son came into view.

“God, I love this house!” said Ameerah when they’d parked.

She leaned forward over the steering wheel to look at Nory’s childhood home. A compact, sturdy 1930s building, with big bay windows and pebble-dashed walls as protection against the harsh winds. It was a no-frills house, like the family who lived in it.

“Do you think we’ll ever reach the stage where the places we actually live in feel like our homes, rather than the places our parents live?” Nory asked. “Why do I always think of this place as ‘coming home’ as opposed to my flat?”

“I don’t think it’s so much the places as the people,” said Ameerah. “Maybe your parents are what signify home for you. It’s different for me. I don’t feel a particularly deep sense of connection to any place really, apart from this one, which isn’t even my home.”

Nory reached over and kissed her cheek.

“It’s as much your home as it is mine,” said Nory. “I think my parents prefer you to me anyway.”

Ameerah sighed. “I think you’re right.”

They laughed as they made the chilly dash to the back door and let themselves in.

The kitchen was warm, with condensation running down the window over the sink, and something wholesome bubbled in the big saucepan on the stove; minestrone soup, possibly. A dozen rolls, freshly removed from the oven and still steaming, rested on a wire rack in the middle of the table, which was set for six. The extra two places must mean that Thomas and Shelley were joining them for lunch, and Nory groaned inwardly. She had hoped to corner her brother in private. At the moment, she wasn’t sure she could keep a civil tongue in her head.

“You’re here!” her mum trilled, walking in from the living room. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

She pulled first Nory and then Ameerah into a hug.

“Ameerah, you look gorgeous as always. How’s work? Sit down, sit down. Jake will be in in a minute. Are those for me? Oh, Ameerah, you shouldn’t have, but thank you; I won’t be sharing these.”