Dad had said to leave me alone. Classic. If I don’t ask you how you feel I can pretend everything is fine.

“We broke up,” I said brightly. “But it’s fine. It was for the best.”

“Really? That’s sad, Saoirse, you two seemed really sweet together. What happened?”

“We weren’t serious,” I said. “Nothing happened. It ran its course.”

Beth’s head started to tilt, her eyes softening.

“Don’t look at me like that, Beth. Seriously, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” she said, eyeing me as though I might break down.

“I do.”

“OK, say no more.” She shrugged, but I had the feeling she wasn’t really going to let it go. “Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked, pulling mugs out of the cupboard.

“No. I’m going to go to see . . . Mum.” I stumbled over the word mum, like mentioning her might offend Beth somehow, but she didn’t notice.

“Do you have plans after that?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Great. Want to come look for a bridesmaid dress? It’s getting so close and we haven’t even looked yet.” She rubbed her right temple, strain showing on her face. “I know you’ve been busy so I didn’t want to bother you, but I’ve seen a couple of things. You need to try them on, of course.”

“What do you mean bridesmaid dress?”

Beth’s face fell. “Your dad said he asked you.”

“Er, no,” I said. I tried to work out quickly how I felt about being a bridesmaid. I wasn’t thrilled exactly, but I didn’t feel the intense revulsion I thought I would. Exhaustion again? “Did he actually say I said yes?”

“Yes, he did,” she said emphatically. “He specifically said you said you’d love to do it. If you don’t want to . . .” She trailed off, looking like a wounded puppy.

“No,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. Patience. “Of course I will. Don’t ever trust Dad to do things, though. He’s kind of a tell-you-what-you-want-to-hear person.”

Beth grimaced. “Noted. I’ll deal with him later—but listen, I saw this amazing lavender number in Debenhams that I think would look brilliant on you.”

I mentally made a note to murder Dad. At least it would be a good distraction.

Mum was still her in her jammies when I got there with my bag of supplies. I’d noticed a couple of days ago that she was fussing with her hair. She opened the door and I could see her bed was unmade and her TV was on.

“What are you watching?” I asked, thinking it was probably something terrible, but it was a broadcast of a classical music festival. Something my mother would actually have liked a lot, once upon a time.