It was a Sunday, and Doug had taken Toby to rugby practice as usual. Hannah had barely shown her face all morning and I was about to start the ironing. I happened to be standing right next to the downstairs phone when I heard Hannah come out of her room and pause on the landing. I knew she was in her usual spot, hand poised over the receiver, ready to lift it as soon as it rang. This time I was ready for her and as soon as it started ringing I snatched it up myself. My heart thudded, had Hannah heard the click? Apparently not. The person on the other end was speaking. ‘Becky, is that you?’

Becky?

‘Yes! How’s it going?’

‘Fine, you know, college work and stuff …’

‘Ugh, how’d it go with that essay?’ my daughter asked.

There followed a conversation about schoolwork, annoying teachers and favourite TV shows. The usual chatter of your average teenager. I should have been used to it, should have heard this or something like it all the time. But I didn’t. Because this wasn’t my daughter talking, not really. I knew Hannah – I knew she wasn’t this girl, the sort of ordinary teenager I’d long given up wishing she’d become. This was Hannah pretending to be someone else entirely. It reminded me of the day I’d overheard her impersonating me talking to the neighbour: today, too, each girlish giggle, breathless exclamation, was nothing more than an act. It was both fascinating and utterly chilling.

As I listened, it became clear that Hannah – or ‘Becky’ – was claiming that she, too, was at a sixth form college taking her A-levels and after some more chat about coursework and deadlines, the conversation turned to me and Doug. ‘What’s going on with your parents, anyway?’ the girl asked.

‘Doing my head in as usual,’ Hannah sighed. ‘I wish my mum and dad were like yours. They sound so great, you’re so lucky.’

The girl snorted. ‘You’re joking, right? They don’t give a shit about what I want. Mum just wants me to go into medicine like her so she can show off to all her friends, and Dad only cares about his own work and what my brothers are doing.’ She sighed. ‘They don’t take me seriously at all. Like that Greenpeace rally I went on last week, I tried to talk to them about it and they just nodded and asked me if I’d done my bloody revision. I mean, who cares about that? Half the planet’s being destroyed and they’re worried about a fucking mock Biology exam. So as usual we ended up having a row. They don’t see how important this stuff is to me, and I’m sure I’m going to fail my exams anyway, sometimes I feel like giving up.’