“I’m leaving,” said Ruby.

“Good,” said Marianne. Then she looked at Jo. “You should never have had her, Joanna. Would have saved us all a lot of trouble.”

Damage control was impossible this time. As Jo and Dad scrabbled for what to do, how to limit the damage, Ruby turned, walked straight out the front door and didn’t look back. She left all of her things, turned off her phone, and disappeared, only days later sending a text to Jo saying to tell Marianne never to call and that she’d be in touch again when she felt ready. Which wasn’t for almost two months, when she rang to tell Jo the news about her council flat on the New Park. However, Jo wasn’t to visit or tell the parents (in Ruby’s mind no longer her parents) where she lived. “I trust you,” she’d said. “I’ll be ready one day. Just not yet.”

“So why give me the address now?”

“Just so you know where I am. If, say, someone dies or something. Otherwise, I’ll call you. You’re not like her. At least I can rely on you to respect my wishes.”

Since then, she’d spoken to Ruby maybe once a month, and never for very long. Jo felt she was being punished for something, and furthermore that she deserved it. Most recently, contact had completely dried up. In her day-to-day life, Joanna tried not to dwell on it, especially on her part in the way the family was falling to pieces. Their mother did need help, but Jo wasn’t the one to give it. It was up to Dad to get something sorted. As for Ruby, the mantra Jo repeated became If you love someone, set them free. Jo was holding tight to the hope that Ruby would come back eventually, if she was patient; if she didn’t push it.