‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. She changes clothes four times a day. That’s little girls, isn’t it? We were all like that once.’ Wendy smiled at Suzie indulgently, as if being a girl explained everything. But Miki had never changed her clothes four times a day. She hadn’t owned four changes of clothes and, even if she had, Mother would never have allowed it. Wendy was looking at Miki appraisingly. ‘How old are you now, love?’

‘Nearly eighteen.’

‘Almost independent, hey? Christ! I was pregnant at your age. Once you’re eighteen, Kurt has no hold on you. You can go then, you know.’

This was news to Miki. Kurt had told her they needed to work together till she was twenty-one. And what about the farm they were saving for? That was a family thing.

‘You should make sure the business is in your name too,’ Wendy was saying. ‘Otherwise none of it belongs to you. I wouldn’t put it past your brother to keep it all for himself. Sorry to say it, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could kick him.’

Miki was embarrassed now, and she wished Wendy would leave. Clearly this woman didn’t understand Kurt. Yes, he was unpredictable, and Miki disliked his restrictions, but sometimes he could be quite considerate.

She was saved by Suzie. The little girl crouched to dip the cloth in the bucket and tripped, knocking it over as she fell and sending a small river running down the path, the bucket rolling after it. Miki was about to rescue the bucket when Suzie’s face screwed up and a murderous scream came out, along with a good dose of tears. Wendy’s sigh was exasperated as she helped Suzie up and handed the wet cloth to Miki.

‘Sorry,’ Miki said. ‘It was meant to be fun.’

Wendy shrugged. ‘It’s always fun till someone loses an eye.’

Miki hadn’t thought Suzie was hurt. ‘Is her eye all right?’

Wendy laughed. ‘Yes, she’s fine. You’re very literal, aren’t you?’ She wiped her daughter’s cheeks with a handkerchief and helped blow her nose.

‘My knees are sore.’ Suzie pouted. ‘And my tights have holes in them.’

Wendy checked Suzie’s knees and planted a kiss on her daughter’s mop of brown hair. Then she took Suzie’s hand. ‘How about we get a doughnut from the bakery? Will that help?’

Suzie nodded.

Wendy winked at Miki and led her daughter up the footpath. Miki watched them go, noticing how their walk was the same, the shape of their shoulders and the way their hips moved. She had wished them gone, but now she felt lonely. It was the intimacy between mother and daughter that moved her: Wendy’s gentle care, the small things mothers shared with their children. Miki missed her mother.

Turning back to the windows, she started cleaning up the soapy mess Suzie had made.