Noah stared at the floor for a moment, and when he looked up, his eyes were bright and clear, seeing right into her. ‘I don’t quite believe you, you know.’

‘About what? My mum’s Christmases?’

‘About the “so what?” I think that you think there’s more to it. You said you mentioned Porthgolow to your mum, and she was vague?’

Hannah nodded. Part of her mum’s efficiency, her always-on-the-job attitude, was that she was icicle sharp. She could parrot Hannah’s exact words back at her whenever they got in a fight and Hannah tried to deny she’d said something; she never forgot a name or a face, and she often came out with picture-perfect memories: Do you remember that boat trip out on the Forth, when a seal followed us all the way back in, and we got chips and chilli sauce and sat outside the pub? It was just after your eleventh birthday, because you insisted on bringing your pink Polaroid camera with you, and you wanted to take photos straight down into the water and I was convinced you’d drop it and lose it for ever.

And yet she couldn’t remember if, in all the years they’d been to Cornwall, they’d ever visited Porthgolow. Even though there was a photograph – one that Hannah had always treasured – proving exactly that.

‘She’s never vague,’ Hannah said. ‘And I do think there’s more to it. But I can’t … I mean, what could she be hiding? And do I want to uncover it? She’d have a good reason for holding something back from me, I think.’ She thought of the times her mum had kept things from her. They were mostly to do with her dad and his whereabouts, and were always done to save her from hurt.

‘Then you need to decide,’ Noah said, ‘whether you want to find out for yourself, or whether you’d rather accept your mum’s version of events and allow her to curate your life in that way.’ He said it calmly, not dropping his gaze.

Hannah felt a flash of irritation. ‘She’s not curating my life.’

He shrugged. ‘I saw how keen you were to see Myrtle’s photos, and you haven’t got long left. I could come with you, if you want? I’m not sure even the walk to the village is safe when it’s like this. We could take my car.’

‘Why are you helping me? I was ready to let it go, to accept what she’s told me, but now you’ve brought it all up again.’ She stood and walked towards the door.

‘I didn’t mean— it’s just that I want you to be true to yourself. If you want to find out what’s going on, if you think there’s some piece of your past connected to Cornwall, then hunt it down. Don’t let other people dictate what you should and shouldn’t know.’

‘What, like you’re doing to me now?’ She folded her arms and glared at him.

He stood up, his mouth lifting at the corners. ‘I’m not saying you should do this. I’m saying it’s up to you. Don’t listen to your mum if you think she’s shutting you down unfairly, don’t listen to me if you’d rather forget it. Do what you want to do.’ He ran a hand through his curls and they sprang back around his face.