Eventually, I heard Mum go to the bathroom and then the kitchen to pour herself a drink. I knew she’d try to go back to bed, but I thought I’d cut her off, hit her while she was feeling rubbish.

‘Mum,’ I said while she had her back to me gulping a mouthful of water. Startled, she turned, surprised as though she’d forgotten that I’d even spent the night at home.

‘I’m going to get a bit more sleep,’ she groaned and made her way to her room.

‘I want to talk,’ I said and sat on the edge of her bed in the darkness.

‘What is it, Phoebe?’ she moaned.

‘I’m here to spend some time with you and instead you go out getting drunk and coming home with sleazebags.’

‘Simon’s a good guy,’ she said defensively. ‘He’s an old friend.’

‘I don’t give a shit about Simon. What I give a shit about is you. You can’t keep doing this!’

‘It was only a drink with an old friend. Let me sleep a bit and we’ll go out for a nice breakfast.’

‘Mum, it’s eleven o’clock now. Why can’t you just stop drinking, at least when I’m with you?’ I shook my head in frustration.

‘Oh, Pheebs, I was relaxing! And it’s not like your father and Caitlin don’t drink—’

‘They don’t get drunk like you. It’s ugly! Disgusting!’

‘You don’t know what it’s like!’ she blurted out, all aggro.

‘What, staying sober to spend time with me? Is it that bad, Mum?’

‘No, of course not,’ she yelled. ‘How could you think that, Phoebe? You really have no idea how hard it is; how hard everything is.’

‘And drinking so much that you feel crap like you do now helps, does it?’

Mum clenched her jaw. ‘At least I feel good for a little while.’

‘So how do I feel good for a little while? I know what it’s like to lose my family, to be living away from you, my home and my best friends.’

Mum started to cry and I told myself to not let her tears get in the way of what I wanted to say.

‘You still have me and your father, and this place,’ she said, her voice trembling.

‘No, I don’t. You’re always drinking, and you and Dad are always fighting, and this place isn’t exactly easy to get to without a licence.’

Mum took my hand. ‘C’mon, Pheebs. I’ll stop, okay? Let’s just go and have a nice breakfast or lunch or whatever.’

I looked at the glow of Mum’s alarm clock and caught a whiff of the stale smell of alcohol. I realised Mum had made me promises in the past, and another promise wasn’t what I wanted to hear right now.