No one says anything and I feel like the silence could last the entire month. I’m lost for words. Where is the charm Veej always bangs on about? My irresistible banter and legendary ability to read the room?

I am reading the room. That’s the problem – the vibes Angelica is giving off would make George Clooney tongue-tied.

‘Let me show you where everything is.’ They follow me as I open the door to the main bathroom. ‘Power shower OK for you both?’

‘That’s as big as a tractor wheel!’ Casey says when she sees the shower head.

‘I know you like to stay clean,’ I say. What kind of idiot statement is that?

Angelica corrects me. ‘It’s not about cleanliness. It’s about avoiding threats to Casey’s immune system.’

Don’t react.

‘And this is your room, Casey.’

It’s the smallest room, but also the nicest, with a tiny porthole window overlooking the harbour and a roof light that lets in sunshine. I went shopping yesterday and bought new stuff to make it just right for a young girl: fairy lights and a rose-gold mirror and a fluffy rug and a new duvet cover, a woodland design covered with foxes and floppy-haired rabbits jumping around a forest.

But now I’m worried it’s too babyish. ‘I hope this is all right.’

She glances at her mother – the curve of their pouting lips is identical – and shrugs. ‘Fine, yeah.’

I ignore the brief stab of disappointment. Huh. I bought her a quilt. What was I expecting, a Grammy Award? The Nobel Prize for Parenting?

Angelica’s room is bigger, but it’s crammed full of office stuff and record boxes. She dumps her bag and we go back into the hall.

‘Where do you sleep?’ Casey asks.

‘In there.’ I point at the door but don’t open it: too many questions, too soon.

Angelica looks at me suspiciously. ‘You’re not hiding a girlfriend, are you?’

‘No. I’m not seeing anyone right now. And even if I was, I’ve cleared the entire month for Casey. Making up for lost time.’

‘I think it’ll take more than four weeks to do that,’ Angelica says pointedly as she walks back to the living room.

OK, I guess it’s time to mention the elephant in the room. ‘Listen, guys, I’m not trying to muscle in on your lives after all this time. I’m just grateful Casey got in touch, so I can do something practical for a few weeks.’

Casey gives her mum an apologetic shrug, tucks her hair behind her ears. Why did Casey message me? They’d have got free hospital accommodation, and it’s obvious that Angelica would rather sleep on the streets than be here.

She opens her mouth and I wait for something venomous to come out. But she sighs, as though it’s too much effort. Casey touches her hair again: a nervous gesture.

But it’s not the gesture that startles me. I look again at her hair and realize: the poor kid is wearing a wig. So much for inheriting her mum’s blonde hair. The shock makes me look away.