She laughed and a prickling heat swept over my neck and cheeks as I relived hauling myself out of the pool in my translucent underwear while she looked on, clothed and beautiful.

‘Come as soon as you can, will you? I wasn’t lying when I said I was dying of boredom. I have no idea how you exist down here. God, I miss London.’

The beeps signalling the end of my ten pence began to chirrup. ‘Okay. I’m walking, but I’ll leave now.’

‘When you get here we—’

The line clicked dead so I missed the end of her sentence.

Despite being delirious with happiness, the claustrophobic atmosphere in our dark cramped house closed in around me in an instant. I hated it. There used to be a time when this house felt like the safest place in the world. When the air rang with laughter not devastated silence. It had been a place of bedtime stories and playing Snakes and Ladders in front of the fire. Now it was cold and unwelcoming, any joy snuffed out by loss and worry.

My mother stepped out of the kitchen as I came in. She held a packet of Jaffa Cakes. ‘Want one?’

‘Jaffa Cakes? What are we celebrating?’

‘My extra hours.’

‘Maybe later,’ I said, as casually as I could manage. ‘I’m going to the Davenports’ for a barbecue supper.’

‘A what?’

‘Supper.’

‘Supper?’ Her face clouded in confusion again.

‘Tea. A barbecue tea. Edie asked me. That was what was in the letter. I checked. Just now on the phone.’ Saying the words aloud made it all seem even more thrilling and I beamed. ‘She said bring a swimsuit.’

A look crossed my mother’s face which I couldn’t read. ‘Why?’

‘For a swim.’

‘No, I mean why’s she asked you for tea?’

‘Supper not tea. And I already told you. We met yesterday and she likes me.’

My mother shook her head. Her brow knotted. ‘She likes you?’

The way she kept repeating everything I said whilst looking so bloody suspicious made me want to scream, but I took a breath and kept my voice level. ‘It is possible for people to like me, you know.’

‘I know. I’m not saying… It’s just…’

My irritation boiled over like a forgotten milk pan. ‘What?’

‘Well, they’re… I don’t know. It’s…’

‘It’s what?’

‘They’re different. To us.’

‘What are you talking about? They’re not royalty.’

‘They might as well be when it comes to the likes of you and me.’ She sighed and rested her hand on her forehead. ‘Look, he’s rich and famous, in and out of the papers, and they’ve got so much money.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything anymore. Things aren’t like they used to be. People aren’t so stuck in their places.’

‘I’m their cleaner.’ My mother looked down at her hands and regarded them as if she wished they weren’t her own. ‘I’m not sure about it.’

‘Edie knows what you do and she doesn’t care. So why should we?’ I crossed my arms and jutted a hip out.