‘One and a half teaspoons of sugar per ramekin dish,’ she reads. ‘Can you remember that for me?’ She opens the fridge door and picks out a small white dish in each hand. ‘Where did you say you were?’ She slides the desserts onto the kitchen work surface and returns to the fridge for more. Her hair hangs in pretty curls either side of her face, and she’s wearing more make-up than usual. But her lipstick is smudged, the effect of having eaten two courses already, and the imperfection spurs Katherine on.

‘I was with a friend.’

‘That’s good – I’m glad you’re getting out. Who was it?’

Katherine pauses for a moment, then whispers tentatively, ‘A new friend.’

‘Oh?’ As though sensing the thickening atmosphere, Linda stops moving, frozen in the middle of the kitchen, a ramekin in each hand. ‘Do I know her?’

‘She’s a sixth former,’ Katherine offers, her heart hammering against her chest. ‘But we’ve become really close lately.’ She watches her mum place the desserts next to the others – eight in total – and take a teaspoon out of the drawer. ‘I really like her.’ She speaks so quietly that her words are barely audible, but her mum’s antennae are quivering on high alert now.

‘How much sugar did it say?’ she asks, staring at the pattern of pale yellow circles edged in white, buying time.

‘One and a half teaspoons per ramekin,’ Katherine murmurs.

Linda nods, like Katherine has just said something profound, then dips the teaspoon into the sugar bowl. She takes a deep breath. ‘Is she more than just a friend, Katherine?’ she asks without looking up.

Katherine’s heart skips a beat, then races fast forward as she watches her mum shake her hand from side to side, grains of sand raining down onto solid custard. Because she knows what her mum is asking. And she’s right, because Becca is more than a friend. She’s a soulmate, the person who occupies Katherine’s every thought, and the only living being who always makes Katherine feel better. Is that what love is? Does that mean they’re in love? ‘Would it matter if she was?’ she asks.

‘Of course not,’ her mum says gently. ‘I know it’s a cliché, but I just want you to be happy.’

‘She makes me happy,’ Katherine promises, her voice still tiny.

Her mum’s hand stills, and she looks up. Their eyes catch and Katherine can see tears glinting in her mum’s eyes. Tears of relief probably, thinking there’s finally someone to offload Katherine onto. But maybe a few of happiness. Katherine takes a breath and feels an unfamiliar urge to puff out her chest like a mating pigeon.

‘That’s great, baby. Really great,’ her mum says, lopsided lipstick stretching out across her face.