It was then I noticed she held an envelope.

‘What’s that in your hand?’

She looked down as if confused by it. ‘It’s for you.’

‘For me?’

She hesitated. ‘Their daughter asked me to give it to you.’

‘What?’ I squealed and ran down the stairs taking them two at a time and when I got to the bottom I thrust out my hand.

She didn’t give it to me. Instead her hand moved fractionally closer towards her body.

‘Can I have it then?’

She furrowed her brow. ‘I didn’t even know they had—’

But I didn’t let her finish. ‘I can’t believe she wrote to me!’ As I grabbed the letter from her an electric charge shot through me. I stared down at my name which was written across it in the neatest writing I’d ever seen, all the letters even and rounded and perfectly joined up. I beamed at Mum but my smile faded when I saw her expression.

‘How do you know each other?’ she asked with forced indifference.

I gripped the letter hard as my brain turned over and over.

‘Oh. Well, yesterday…’ I hesitated. ‘You know… when you were working at the chip shop? It was a really nice day so I went for a walk. On the cliffs. And, well, I ended up going past their house, and, this girl – their daughter, it turns out – was on the terrace. And I smiled at her. Like you always tell me to. I mean, you’re always saying I should smile more, aren’t you? Anyway, I did smile and she said something. Hello, I think. Then she said something about the weather. Isn’t it sunny? Or maybe something about rain coming. Anyway, we sort of got talking and then she asked me to come in for a drink. A Coke. One of the fancy American ones from the adverts. I think her name’s Edie. Something like that.’

Mum nodded vaguely, her face slick with mild confusion.

‘She’s here for the whole summer,’ I said.

‘Yes, Mrs Davenport told me today. Christ, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door and the woman was sitting there. I wish I’d known. I’d have worn something a little nicer. You should have seen the way she looked me up and down. Snooty cow. I hated cleaning with her there. So much nicer when it’s just me. Can you believe she actually followed me round? I swear she ran her finger along a windowsill after I’d cleaned it. I mean, even though I know I cleaned it I was terrified it would come up covered in grime.’ She sighed. ‘She said Mr Davenport is finishing a book. Can’t be in London, she said, because it’s too noisy or too crowded or something like that. So they’re here until the end of August. Anyway…’ She took a breath and smiled. ‘Whatever the reason, she’s given me more hours. Three times a week plus more on the weekend if they have guests.’