“Yes. No. We had to help Al. I’ve told you how upset she’s been about Simone recently, and—”

“And that’s what I should tell Henry, is it? That your friends are more important to you than your family?”

“That’s not fair, Mum. I’ve been to all George’s matches, and I was there when Isabella opened her dance studio.”

I spent most of my childhood being dragged from one sibling event to another, a habit that has now become so ingrained that I start each day by checking the calendar in my kitchen to see who’s doing what. Isabella is my oldest sibling. She’s thirty-two, an ex-dancer, ridiculously beautiful and married with a son. George is my older brother. He’s twenty-eight and a golf pro. He lives in St Andrews and I rarely see him. Henry’s the youngest; he’s twenty-four and the next Jimmy Carr, if you believe my mother.

“Mum?”

There’s a pause, a pause that stretches for one, two, three, four seconds.

“Mum? Are you still there?”

She sighs again. “You should get back to work. It sounds like you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

I swipe at my eyes with the heel of my hand. “Could you wish Henry good luck from me?”

“I will. I’ll speak to you soon. You’d better get back to it. Work hard and make us proud.”

The line goes dead before I can reply.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Present Day

I’m sitting in the staffroom, the letter in my hand, my messenger bag at my feet. It’s been six hours since Sheila handed me the envelope, and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve examined it. There’s my name, my assumed name, Jane Hughes, at the top then Green Fields Animal Sanctuary, Bude, Nr Aberdare, Wales. There’s a first-class stamp in the top right corner. It’s been stamped but it’s too smudged to make out the town or date. The letter itself is written in blue biro in cursive handwriting. The words aren’t large and bold and shouty. They’re neatly written, punctuated, spelled correctly.

“You haven’t stopped reading that since I gave it to you,” Sheila says, taking a step towards me, hand outstretched. “Can I see?”

“It’s nothing. Like I said, just a letter from Maisie’s owners. Nothing important.” I crumple the letter in my hand and throw it towards the bin before she can reach me. It hits the rim and bounces in.