I try to imagine the three of them squeezed into Grandad’s house. ‘Just a bit …’

‘Oh, and your mum is waiting for you outside.’

‘Right.’

Annie catches the look on my face. ‘I gave her a piece of my mind,’ she says. ‘Told her she was selfish and irresponsible and didn’t deserve an A-grade daughter like you.’

‘You didn’t!’

‘Course I didn’t! To be honest, she was kind of quiet. Your big speech almost certainly made her cry, plus she has just survived an earthquake.’

‘I know.’ I say, but I still don’t move.

‘Well, go on!’ She gives me a shove. ‘You might as well get it over with. There’s a reception in the drama room so I’m going to go and eat crisps and talk to geeks.’

‘That sounds good,’ I say wistfully.

‘Go!’

I walk out of school and blink in the sunshine. It’s quiet out here so it’s easy to spot Mum sitting at the edge of the field. Elsa’s on her lap and Mum’s holding both of her hands and talking to her. Annie’s right, she does look shaky. Even though she’s smiling, her eyes are tired and somehow she looks pale under her sunburn.

I walk over to them. ‘Hey,’ I say.

‘Meg!’ Mum jumps to her feet and pulls me to her in a fierce hug. She smells sweaty and of suntan lotion, but I can just get a trace of sandalwood incense. ‘Sorry,’ she says, letting me go. She stares down at her dusty clothes. ‘I know I’m a mess. I came straight from the airport.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, and then we stand there, Mum holding my arm and Elsa wriggling between us.

Mum stares at me. At least her nose stud is still sparkling. ‘I didn’t know a lot of those things you said, Meg … or maybe I did, you know, deep down.’ She doesn’t take her eyes off me and I start to feel hot. Part of me wants to run away, but I force myself to stay exactly where I am. ‘The earthquake was bad,’ she says. ‘Not when it happened – I was so far away I only felt tremors – but how I felt afterwards. It shook me up inside.’

‘I’m glad you’re OK,’ I say, making myself look at her. ‘I saw all the pictures on the news. It was terrible. You had to help.’

She nods, but she still looks uncertain. ‘I went to this temporary shelter and gave out food. One day, I got talking to this boy. He was all on his own, trying to look after his brother who was ill. When he told me he was fifteen, I felt so strongly that this was wrong: he should have been playing football with his friends, not worrying about how he was going to get medicine for his brother.’ She looks at me. ‘Then I realised he was the same age as you, Meg.’ She holds on tight to my arm. ‘I should never have left you.’