But there are other things to do, chief among them to decide where to sleep. I take a bedroom on the second floor that looks out to the back, principally because it’s right next to the bathroom and has a large wardrobe, though the latter is unnecessary as I have brought so little clothing that I could have flown up with hand luggage only (if there were any planes flying, that is). My paltry wardrobe looks even more meager and pathetic hanging on the ill-assorted high street hangers that were in the wardrobe (Topshop, Miss Selfridge, Oasis: it’s been years since I bought anything from those). Carrie has dumped her suitcase in the master bedroom, which has an en suite, so I feel able to leave my toiletries in the family bathroom. There’s a full-length wall mirror in there that catches me unawares, causing me to falter mid-step; for a moment it throws out a stranger’s image, but a blink later it’s recognizably me peering back. I stare and stare at the mirror, trying to see what I had a fleeting glimpse of—not even a glimpse, the merest hint: me as other people see me. But what gazes back is entirely familiar: average height, average build, average brown hair (though I like to think it has a touch of auburn to it). Pale skin, paler even than the average Scot, but you might not notice that right now given the smattering of freckles across my nose from the Egyptian sun. Even my clothes are average: jeans and a lightweight linen T-shirt. Really, the only thing that’s worth remarking upon is my eyes: almond shaped and green, with a distinct black border to the iris. Cat’s eyes, Jonathan called them. My father’s eyes, my mother once said. For God’s sake, you’re just like your father. You even look like him. Those bloody eyes!

Suddenly I hear Jonathan’s voice floating up the stairs; it throws me for a moment before I realize Carrie must have turned on the news. My legs are taking me down the stairs before I’ve finished deliberating. Carrie is standing in front of the telly, the remote still in hand; she turns at my entry. “Jonathan,” she says unnecessarily.