I’d been begging him to let Mum come home for months. He always had a million reasons why it didn’t make sense, but for a second my heart expanded to allow hope in. It wouldn’t be perfect, I knew that, but it would be better than now. I could see her all day. Not just a visit for an hour or two, which is not the same as living with someone. I could defer Oxford and make up for the time we’d lost this year. Then I’d be ready to go and everyone would be happy.

“I have some exciting news. I know it’s going to come as a shock. I wanted to tell you before, but it’s been so complicated and you’ve been so angry with me.”

His words were not making sense. I mean yes, I’d been angry. Although I thought I’d hidden it remarkably well, seeing as I hadn’t snuck into his room at night and set it on fire.

“I hope you’ll be happy for me.” The glass in his hand and his voice wavered.

Nothing good starts with I hope you’ll be happy for me. The phrase is loaded with the unsaid ending because you won’t be happy for yourself.

“Saoirse, honey, I asked Beth to marry me.”

I dropped my mug on the table, champagne splashing out the top and forming a puddle. He set his down and held his hands up in surrender.

“Look, I know you haven’t really got to know her yet, but you haven’t given her a chance.”

My mouth opened as though I was trying to respond, but my brain did not have the capacity to produce language. I closed my mouth and did the only mature thing possible. I ran upstairs to my room.

The small space between the door and the window wasn’t long enough for pacing up and down to be satisfying, but I did my best; smoke was practically coming out of my nose. I wondered if he’d follow me. When I started to feel dizzy, I stopped pacing and paused to see if I could hear his footsteps in the hall. After a few moments, I heard the TV coming to life, the sounds of a sportsketball game making their way through the ceiling.