Beth had already moved into the flat three days ago, so she was helping too. She was giddy all day and a little part of me begrudgingly thought it was kind of sweet. She was obviously really excited about the move. She was also intent on making sure that my desire never to see her and Dad snogging again remained unfulfilled. I caught them in the bathroom, leaning against the shower, Beth with an arm wrapped around my dad’s neck and a bag in her hand that she’d thrown toothbrushes and shampoos into.

“I need to change my tampon,” I said loudly and grumpily. It wasn’t true, but I liked to embarrass Dad. They broke apart. Surprised but utterly unembarrassed. By the kissing anyway. Dad scarpered, muttering about feminism ruining his life. I wondered if he ever thought about how lucky he was that Mum had had the talks with me before she got really bad.

“Oh, here, I packed the toilet roll,” Beth said, rummaging in the bag and producing a loo roll like she was presenting me with a great gift.

“You know, I think it’s OK if we actually leave one of these behind us. We can get more toilet roll for the new flat.”

“Thanks for the advice, smart-arse,” Beth replied.

“You know, if you two can’t keep it in your pants, maybe we should do this zone by zone. You and Ruby take apart the bed frames upstairs and Dad and I will take downstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beth saluted and playfully shoved me on the shoulder before she skipped out of the bathroom.

Weird. She was usually so thirsty for my approval and mortally wounded by the slightest sarcastic remark from me. If she was getting used to me I was really going to miss that sad frowny face she did when I was being a total wagon.

“Wi ooh dismahah e dsk,” Dad said to me as he lumbered past the kitchen, stooped under the weight of a crate of books, a screwdriver between his teeth. I was making another cup of tea. I needed a caffeine top-up to get me through the rest of the afternoon.

“Want to try that again?” I said, taking the screwdriver and wiping the saliva on his shirt. “Gross.”

“Will you dismantle the desk? The one in my office?”

“Seriously, I told you to do that yesterday.” I groaned.

“I needed it,” he said.

“So you do it now.” I pouted.

“I’m busy.” He shifted his weight, readjusting the crate of books to make his point. “And you’re out here slacking and making tea. Again.”