He jabbed angrily at his slab of an iPhone as I turned my attentions back to Sophie. I knew already the website wouldn’t yield much. I’d tried to find her address that way, back when I’d sprung my surprise visit on her, but social media of any kind was not her style.

‘Sophie, Rachel must have said something to you – anything – that gave you a clue as to where she could be.’

Sophie eyed me nervously.

‘But Mum… she’s not a child. I don’t know, but even if I did…’

Rage flamed up inside me.

‘Your sister is having a breakdown! Do you not understand that? She needs us – she needs her mother – more than she ever has.’

Something crossed Sophie’s face – was it pity for my self-delusion? – that made me imagine my hand cracking itself hard across the soft pillows of her cheeks.

‘It’s a retreat, I think. They’re going to work on their problems together, as a group. But I don’t know where it is.’ Her chin tilted upwards, defiant. ‘And even if I did, I wouldn’t betray her like that! She doesn’t want you to know – can’t you get that, Mum?’

I waited for a long second before I deigned to respond to her.

‘Do you have amnesia, Sophie? Some kind of head injury you haven’t told us about?’

She was wrong-footed, groping for a response.

‘Mum…’

‘Have you forgotten the past few years? What we’ve been through? If your sister ends up dead – choking on her own vomit or stuffed full of pills – you’ll remember this moment. You’ll remember choosing her delusions over my mothering. And you’ll have to ask yourself, are you the reason she’s in the ground?’

How quickly I could alchemize my hurt, transform it into anger and weaponize it against my own flesh and blood. I used to think it was a skill, a useful way to shepherd them through a messy, dangerous world without scaring them with my own vulnerability. With everything that’s happened since, I have to wonder if it was always a curse.

RACHEL

It wasn’t exactly a coffee break. Instead I took a warm, sweet cup of herbal tea from Amber and sipped it, letting it heat me from the inside.

‘You’ve got such a deep sensitivity,’ she said as she handed it to me, eyes full of concern. ‘I don’t want any caffeine triggering your nervous system before we do this piece of work together.’

I luxuriated in her attention, in feeling like a fragile and precious artefact that had to be handled with the utmost care.

‘Thanks, Amber,’ I said softly. There was a queue of people behind me waiting for their own hot drinks, and I couldn’t simply stay there and bask. Instead I backed away. My heart was beating fast, even without caffeine to drive the tattoo.