I see her continuing to appraise him as they shake hands. My stomach bends with anxiety. I don’t want her to be taken in by him, don’t want her to like him even for a second.

He raises the plastic bag he’s brought. “I got some champers to celebrate Becca being here.”

Becca hoots and Mum’s expression lifts a little. Nick makes a big show of popping the cork so it cannons across the room. We haven’t even finished the cheap bottle of wine that Mum bought specially from the corner shop, but he floods our glasses with champagne instead.

The bubbles catch in my throat. Becca and Mum seem giddy after only a few sips—Becca especially. Nick starts to tell a story about buying the champagne. He uses the phrase “wine merchant” and Becca creases up, Mum smiling too.

“Wine merchant!” Becca clearly likes it even as she mocks it. “That’s an offie round these parts, right, Kate?”

I shrug, pinching the stem of my glass.

“Okay, I admit, it was a jumped-up offie.” Nick laughs along. He’s playing with Mum’s hair again, twirling it round his hand. I imagine him pulling hard, her neck snapping back.

I retreat to bed early but their gales of laughter carry through the wall. Becca starts advising Nick about haircuts, offering him a trim; I picture her fingers sliding over his scalp. Mum’s voice seems to fade as the night stretches on. It’s all Becca and Nick, Becca and Nick, hurling banter back and forth. When Becca finally comes to bed, I crush my face into my pillow and pretend to be asleep.

—

I wake disoriented in the night, my sheets twisted, a nightmare fading, along with a childish urge to cry out for my mum. After a few groggy moments I remember that Becca’s asleep on my floor.

Except she isn’t. The sky is black through my thin curtains, as black as it ever gets in this city, but Becca’s sleeping bag is empty.

Nick’s got her, I think feverishly. He’s charmed her, flattered her, made her think he wants to swap Mum for her.

I scramble out of bed and stand in the middle of my room. When I hear the gush of a tap, my shoulders release. Of course, she’s gone to the toilet. I’m about to return to bed when I catch the sound of retching.

“Bec?” My voice is low as I creep to the bathroom. “You okay?”

“Come in, Kate,” she whispers back.