I was glad of the racket of the engine. The atmosphere between us was horrible. She used to be easy to talk to but everything had changed. I was regretting saying I’d come back to hers. What were we going to do for an hour? Sit and glare at each other? This was a bad idea.

*

Maggie stopped outside the farmhouse front door and handed me the door keys.

The log store was almost full up. ‘Who chopped all that?’ I asked.

‘I did,’ said Maggie. There was yet more uncomfortable silence while I processed what this meant – she could manage without me all along.

I didn’t say anything. I got off the tractor and let myself in the house while she put it away. The smell inside enveloped me, like walking into a hug. It smelled of cooking and incense and it was like coming home. I shook the thought from my mind. What garbage was that? This wasn’t my home. I lived with Dad. Who was Maggie anyway? Just some old lady from the library. She wasn’t the person I thought I knew. I kicked my shoes off and went through to see the puppies.

I was standing in the living room doorway when Maggie came back in. ‘Where are they?’ I snapped at her.

She frowned for a second before realising who I meant. ‘Oh, the pups are back at Savage’s. Assuming he’s not sold them.’ My face must have looked startled because I was. I’d assumed they’d be here. I’d thought about them masses and every time I’d pictured them in Maggie’s living room.

‘But…’

‘They are his dogs.’ She seemed to have a hard edge to her now. Maybe it was always there and I just hadn’t noticed.

‘I know but…’ I was interrupted by the loud bleat of a lamb and it wasn’t in the field. I gave Maggie a questioning look.

‘The small male of Barbara’s. I can’t remember his name—’

‘Tyrion.’

‘He got mauled by a fox so I’m hand-feeding him. I tried taking him back to Barbara but she was having none of it.’

‘Not such a good mother after all.’ The words were out before I could vet them. I could tell they had stung Maggie.

‘I suppose not. But she’s done her best.’ I opened my mouth but managed to stop myself. We both knew we weren’t talking about Barbara anymore. ‘He’s in the kitchen,’ she said.

I walked off and tried to stop the bubbles of anger in my gut. In the kitchen Tyrion was standing in a crate like he was pleased to see me. It was painful to kneel down with my bruised leg but I managed it. Maggie passed me a seat cushion off one of the kitchen chairs for me to kneel on but neither of us said anything.