‘Watermelon,’ they said together. They hadn’t been paying attention, or maybe they had, and the knife was new and serrated. But maybe Margaret had been paying attention perfectly. It was just that thing where she didn’t understand where her hand ended. She’d been looking after Ash at the time. Ash was maybe four. There was a lot of blood and she felt faint and the pain shot up her arm and into her heart. They dropped into a chair and held a tea towel round their finger tightly. Ash came over and patted Margaret’s arm and said, ‘Ouch.’ Margaret was crying hard. It had healed, but their finger was never the same shape. It was a defining moment. An understanding that they would die with their hand this shape. That there was no do-over. Which led to a deeper understanding that they were not coming this way again. Turning forty-one had been the worst thing. They were forty-eight now, but forty-one had been tough. That’s what they told people, and people agreed. There was a build-up to forty and then you were forty and you thought, ‘Thank god that’s over,’ and then time went on and you turned forty-one and you thought, ‘Didn’t we do this?’ and you realised you would keep getting older. That’s what it felt like. Like time was going forward but – they looked at their hands, the bit missing from their finger – anything was possible.

‘If you’re lucky,’ Greta said.

‘If you’re lucky you’ll keep getting older,’ Peggy said, and they were right.

There was a beeping noise from the other room, and they looked at each other. It was the Tamagotchi phone. They’d forgotten about it. The beep went right through them now. They looked at each other. Greta picked up her phone and rang Heidi’s number. It rang and rang, then someone picked up but didn’t say anything.

‘Dell?’ Greta said. ‘Just ring us. Or come over. We’re having lunch. We’ve got like forty-five minutes.’ And there was a knock at the door.

Peggy got up, walked down the hall, opened the door and there was Dell, her phone still to her ear. ‘Hi, Dell,’ Peggy said.

‘Margaret,’ said Dell.

‘It’s Peggy,’ Peggy said.

Dell rolled her eyes and sighed. Peggy could hear Greta in Dell’s phone, telling her to just hang up already.

Dell took the phone from her ear. She was holding something in her other hand. ‘I brought chips,’ she said, and held the bag out. ‘For lunch.’ The bag was open and half empty. There were crumbs down the front of her sweatshirt.

Greta was in the hallway too, now. ‘Do you want a sandwich?’ she asked, and Dell nodded.