Before Ann-Marie can reply, her mother cuts in from the foot of the stairs. ‘That school is useless. They don’t know what they’re doing. Sometimes,’ she says, as if talking to an adult, ‘I think we should have sent her to school in Strath Horne with you, Lauren, not Edinburgh.’ A dog bounds up to Angela, its breath heavy and wet. ‘Get,’ she says, thrusting her arm towards its basket. ‘You’re not making a mess of me this time.’ In the kitchen light, her face looks bare except for a shade of autumnal lipstick and the chunky purple glasses that frame her eyes. Angela has the kind of eyes that like to peer into other people’s business. ‘Remember, wash your hands now before eating sweeties,’ she says to the children as they go to pet the retreating dog. ‘And it says, that book, they used to use turnips, so,’ she continues, nodding at the turnip, ‘bloody difficult, let me tell you. A lot of elbow grease.’ She moves over to the cherry-red kettle. ‘Who’s for tea?’

Billy is in his own world with the dogs and doesn’t respond.

‘Can I have a cup, please? Angela, why did they do that?’ asks Lauren, quietly.

‘The turnips? Oh, this is before we grew pumpkins. Hang on. I’ve made some other treats.’ She makes her way over to the larder like a blustery wind.

‘So,’ says Lauren, ‘you back for long?’

‘Um. A few days.’ Ann-Marie does not look up as she carves.

Angela returns to the table with ice-cream boxes repurposed as Tupperware. She adjusts her glasses and prises off the lids, revealing marshmallow top hats and meringues. ‘Happy Halloween!’

Lauren takes a bite of a top hat, smudging the lipstick trickle on her cheek.

Without Billy’s mum in sight, the children make their way back across the main road and uphill past Vairi’s. Niall’s truck is no longer by the phone box. As they reach Billy’s house with its fat stone walls, Lauren sees the pickup in the driveway. Its engine is rumbling and the headlamps throw an impatient light on the gravel. She walks up to the truck and presses her face against the cold window. Lewis, no longer wailing, is sitting next to Kirsty in the passenger seat. Lewis tugs at his mother’s arm. She catches sight of Lauren and scrambles to open the door. ‘Oh, here,’ she says, getting out. ‘Never mind, Niall,’ she calls back. ‘And thanks.’ She hurries inside, dragging Lewis.

‘Come in for a sec,’ she says to Lauren. Lauren steps into the bright hallway of Billy’s home. ‘I suppose you can have some too,’ Kirsty says to Billy and grabs handfuls of Freddo chocolates and Swizzels Matlow sweets from multi-buy packages.

‘Thanks, Kirsty,’ says Lauren, emptying her hands into her bucket.

‘See ya tomorrow then!’ Billy says, turning towards the stairs. ‘Are you wanting to work on the hut again?’