“Yes, I saw a news report that Norwegian girls with acoustic guitars lead kids to witchcraft and heroin.”

“Can’t you let her in?” I whined.

“I have to go down to the home. I was supposed to take your mum out later for—” He cut himself off. “Anyway, she’s having a bad day. Was she OK this morning?”

Your mum. Like she had nothing to do with him.

“She seemed fine this morning.”

A bad day meant she was distressed, crying, shouting, possibly violent.

“I tried ringing Beth to cancel, but she didn’t answer,” Dad said on his way out. “I bet she left her phone at home. Tell her I’m sorry and I’ll call her later. Oh, and if you can do that pants thing too that would be great.”

“I can’t promise I won’t sacrifice her to the Goat King if the music tells me so,” I said, half joking. I was inclined to be a little kinder knowing he was going to make sure Mum was OK. Especially as I hadn’t offered to go with him.

“I understand that. What kind of unreasonable tyrant do you take me for?”

I was loading books into boxes when the doorbell rang. Technically, in some mature part of my brain, I knew I had no right to be mad at Beth, but I wasn’t going to let that part win. I wasn’t some kind of quitter. I trudged to the door. Beth stood in front of me, a big grin on her face that slid off, comically, when she saw it was me. She replaced it as quickly as she could.

“Saoirse. How lovely to see you again,” she said.

“I’m sure. Look, Dad had to go . . . out.” I didn’t know whether I was supposed to tell her where he really was. Obviously she knew about Mum, but it felt weird to bring her up.

“Should I wait? Did he say if he’d be back soon?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

He would likely be at least an hour or two, but who was I to make wild predictions?

“I’ll wait for a bit then,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out,” I said, and I turned to leave. Beth was sitting primly on the edge of the sofa like she was waiting in a doctor’s office for bad news.

Sighing heavily, I made myself turn back. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?”

Her face brightened. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

I brought her back her tea and I sat in the armchair next to the sofa to be polite. I realized I was also perching on the end of the seat. Maybe that’s just how you sit when you’re planning to bolt any second.

“So . . .” I searched for any topic of conversation except the wedding. “What are you doing today, then?”