‘Okay,’ I said, my cheeks burning. ‘Thanks, then.’ I wanted to throw the offer back in her face, but the truth was, my Mastercard had almost five grand on it, and I was still using it to buy tampons in the week before pay day. I felt pathetic, a teenager with wrinkles. I needed Amber, and I needed Mum to keep my grip on her.

‘Say thank you to Dad, too,’ she said, lightly cupping my hand. ‘He’ll appreciate hearing it from you.’

My heart sank even lower now, a dead weight inside a hollow shell.

My spaghetti pomodoro kept falling off my fork, slithering away before I got it into my mouth. Mum was elegantly impaling ravioli, telling me about the latest series of a twisty crime drama – corrupt cops with beady eyes and too many implausible motives – that everyone at work seemed obsessed with too. My joy had gone, her words just noise.

‘I’m not really watching much TV at the moment,’ I said. ‘I’d rather read.’

It was true. Amber had given me a stack of books with dreamy covers to immerse myself in. Love Your Inner Child, a blonde-haired angel on the cover with clouds floating above her. The Alchemist – ancient wisdom packaged for a Western audience. They comforted me. They made me feel Amber was with me, even when she wasn’t. I think I read them looking for clues to who she was, behind that messily glossy facade. I even kept The Alchemist in my handbag, revelling in how dog-eared the pages were. It made me feel like we were reading it together. Any questions I asked about her were batted away, so those little moments of false intimacy I created were all the more precious. ‘You’ll feel safer if you don’t have to worry about me,’ she said. ‘Our time together is all about you.’

‘It’s one of the only shows Dad and I can watch together,’ Mum said. ‘He actually wants to be home in time. It’s a miracle!’

‘Big time,’ I said, immediately regretting it. She raked me with her eyes, took a forkful of salad from the bowl between us.

‘He works hard. He always has. I admire that about him.’

‘Yes, no,’ I said, scrabbling for safe ground. ‘We all do.’

‘You can obviously choose what you want to watch, living on your own,’ she said coolly. ‘But I do hope, when you’re really through all of this, you’ll meet someone too.’

Every time, that little postscript. That little reminder that I was the one lagging behind. The problem. Something dangerous spiked inside of me.