She pulls an oversized grey cardigan around her small frame, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she does. Her body language screams that she is deeply uncomfortable with this situation.

She blinks at me as if it is taking her some time to put a name to a face. I know I look different now – but not that different. And she had been aware that I was coming.

‘Heidi?’ It is Stella who breaks the silence – coming to my rescue as she always does. ‘We spoke on the phone. I’m Stella, Ciara’s partner.’

I watch for any sort of reaction on Heidi’s face at the realisation that I’m gay. It has never been something I’ve advertised. It’s no one’s business but my own, and Stella’s, of course.

Heidi barely blinks. She looks from Stella to me and then takes a step backwards to allow us in. ‘Please, come in, both of you,’ she says, her voice quiet. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Stella,’ she says. ‘And it’s good to see you again, Ciara.’

I smile at her because it is what is expected. We both know that what she has said is a lie. It’s not nice to see each other at all. I think we could have quite happily existed without ever seeing other again and been perfectly happy.

I hear the cry of a baby, look to Heidi.

‘That’s Lily,’ she says. ‘My baby. She’s due a feed. If you’ll excuse me. Joe’s sleeping just now, but I’m sure he would be okay with you waking him.’

‘Maybe we’ll just wait a bit,’ I say.

She nods, looks anxiously towards the living room door where the cry is becoming more persistent. ‘Well, you know where the tea and coffee are, why not make yourselves a cup?’ she says, and with that she scurries, mouse-like, into the living room, closing the door behind her.

I lead Stella to the kitchen.

‘So that’s Heidi,’ Stella says as she sits down and I switch the kettle on to boil.

‘It is indeed. Although she is much more mouse-like than before. And she was pretty mouse-like then.’

‘It must be hard for her, with a new baby to look after and Joe to be minding,’ Stella says as she looks around the room, taking in the slightly dated décor. I bristle. I do not want to be any part of a ‘poor Heidi’ narrative. I saw and heard enough of it over the years to be done with it for good. I’m not so much of a bitch that I don’t accept she had it rough to lose her mother at a young age, but she has led a life of privilege, and him – my father – he chose her over me. Not just once. But time and time again.

I don’t answer Stella. I just make the tea, rattle around the cupboards for sugar. This house is familiar and yet it isn’t. It’s quieter. Darker. Colder. I think briefly of the angry teenager I had once been. I can almost hear echoes of her stomping up the stairs or slamming the front door. My heart aches for her a little. I wish things had been different.