‘Well. I’d prefer you didn’t go there again, not while you’ve exams to worry about.’ Carolyn moved out of the way at last and Evie darted past her. ‘Are we clear on that?’ she added as Evie went up the stairs.

‘Yes,’ Evie said. ‘Perfectly clear.’

*

Kym found her mum in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stew. She picked up a knife and began to help; the radio on in the background, both of them half listening to the news, making plans for the rest of the week. Kate was off on a training course on Monday, and Kym had already decided she was going to stay over at her gran’s.

‘You don’t have to, you know. I trust you to look after yourself here.’

‘I know. But – I like it there.’

Kate gave her a look, then changed the subject. ‘And how are things with you and Ty? I saw him in the street today; he didn’t stop.’

‘It’s OK, you know?’

‘You’re not having second thoughts?’

‘No. Not really.’

‘Right.’ Kate looked at her. ‘You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? If there was anything bothering you?’

‘Course I would.’ The lie felt wrong, but there were some things Kym reckoned her mother was better off not knowing.

‘Hmm. I don’t have to go to Lincoln tomorrow, you know?’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘Fine. Forget it,’ said Kate, turning her attention back to the chopping board. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’

*

The landing was clogged with bin liners swollen with clothes, her mum’s and – Evie noticed – her dad’s too. Carolyn got like this sometimes; it was as if she was trying to shed the past, starting a great purge that led to renovation and redecoration. The mirror had gone, and Evie supposed other things would soon go missing too; ornaments, paintings, even things they were attached to, family photos, souvenirs, gifts. Carolyn could be remarkably unsentimental at times. She enjoyed moving house and when that was denied her, she loved to make a house over, as if they could all start again. New and improved. The only things she clung onto through thick and thin were the stupid Moses basket that now lay empty by the bedroom door – Evie had the uneasy feeling Carolyn was keeping that for her first grandchild – and the books she had transported from her childhood home to university and back again. Old, cheap and second-hand, most of them, hidden away in the bedroom, as if she were ashamed of the girl she had once been.