He was facing away from her, his hands rummaging in the sink for potatoes. When he turned, his face had crumpled in a way she’d never seen before and made her heart lurch with pity. She caught him in a tight hug because it seemed as if he might collapse right there on the kitchen floor. Joanna held her father up as he cried, and thought about how we never really leave our childhood selves behind. The little boy that grew up to be her father still lived inside him, just as the little girl she’d once been lived in her. It was the little girl part of Ruby, too, that was hurting now.

“Why does she hate us, Joanna? We tried to do the right thing. I loved her like a daughter. I still do. Exactly the way I love you. Maybe even more because of who she is.”

Me too, thought Jo. “I don’t know what she’s thinking, Daddy,” she said.

He turned back to the potatoes. “Your mother and I tried to catch her at work last week.”

“Oh, Dad. What happened?”

“Well, I was starting to think maybe she doesn’t work there anymore. Once or twice, I’ve sat outside that music service building when the schools finish. Just on the off chance, you know, because she told me once that she runs the after-school orchestra on Wednesdays. I’ve never seen her. And then last week, she wasn’t there either. One of the other tutors told us—and I had to really lay it on thick because they gave me all this data protection bullshit—that she’s off sick. Your mother was so upset.”

Harper felt a surge of anger at Ruby. If she was in some kind of trouble, why didn’t she ask for help? If she was sick, she needed her family around her. “I didn’t think it would go on for this long. If I had, I would have tried to do something much sooner. After everything you’ve done for her—for both of us. I don’t know how she could just cut you off. Mum, I can understand, but you?”

Dad looked at his slippers. He dried his hands on a tea towel and placed it on the side. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? She thinks what we did—what we all did—was the wrong thing to do.”

“If she can’t see that—”

“Shh, Joanna. Don’t get upset. Your mother doesn’t need it today.”

There was a sound then from her mobile phone, still in the pocket of her coat in the hallway. The distinctive boing of an email notification.

“I better go, Dad. Work’s calling.”

“Proud of you, sweetheart. Making the world a better place. Come round later for some leftovers, won’t you? Please?”

In the living room, her mother was sitting very straight in her chair, facing the telly.