Mum was circling the kitchen table, laying out the cutlery like it was a geometry exercise. She deliberately kept her back to us, and I could feel the anxiety start to steam and bubble inside me. Even massaging the chip of rose quartz didn’t produce any reduction in my heart rate. Eventually she straightened up and crossed the room, reaching me first and giving me a staccato kiss on each cheek like a bird pecking for worms. Sophie got a hug – a real one that meant something to both of them. I felt the hurt ripple through me, the fight draining away in its wake. It wasn’t worth getting in the ring with her. She always won.

‘We’ve been tramping up and down Marylebone High Street, haven’t we?’ I said, forcing brightness into my tone. ‘You’re going to love Sophie’s present.’

Dad was at the hob by now, poking at the pans and refusing to speak.

‘I always adore Sophie’s presents,’ said Mum, back at the table now. ‘And your presence too, darling!’ she added, laughing at her own pun. ‘That’s a given.’

‘You’ll love Rachel’s, too,’ said Sophie, eyes darting between us. ‘She just couldn’t find anything chic enough today, but you know she’s going to end up winning hands down.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Mum tartly. ‘Sophie, darling, can you get the water glasses out of the cupboard?’

I couldn’t help it; I raced over to the dresser before Sophie could react. My hand shook as I held the wobbly stack of tumblers – I looked down at the Spanish tiled floor, willing myself not to drop them. ‘Here you go,’ I said, crossing towards Mum and touching her arm, forcing her to turn her head towards me, her perfect weekday blow-dry still falling elegantly around her shoulders. ‘Is there anything else I can do?’

‘You could pour us all a lovely glass of sparkling water,’ she said. ‘I ordered a whole box of San Pellegrino from Ocado. I dumped it in the basement I think.’

Deep underground, where everything in our family was meant to go. I wonder if she’s yet forgiven me for breaking our silent pact?

Josh’s two boys were rampaging around the garden, swiping at rose bushes with sticks and rugby-tackling each other. It looked violent to my fragile gaze, but no one else seemed remotely worried. Chloe seemed more concerned about me, if anything. She kept throwing me looks and bundling Nancy to her chest, or maybe that was just my paranoia. They’d just arrived, and Dad and Josh were having a scandalized conversation at the other end of the kitchen about some lawyer who’d been struck off for squirrelling client funds.