‘Because he’ll be at work.’ I’m starting to feel impatient.

She hesitates, an odd look on her face. ‘OK. But if they come back I’ll have to leave …’

Whatever it is that’s on her mind, I know she’ll get round to telling me if she wants to badly enough. It’s the reason she comes here. She doesn’t have anyone else. Trying the back door, I turn to Hollie. ‘Don’t worry. They’re out.’ After I unlock it, Hollie follows me in.

I sling my bag on the floor, while Hollie goes over to the huge vase on the table. Usually empty, today it’s filled with all kinds of flowers. ‘D’you want a drink?’ I ask.

She buries her face in the flowers, as if she’s inhaling them. ‘What is there?’

Shrugging, I go to the fridge, frowning as I pass the sink and see it’s filled with several more bunches. What is it with my mother and all these flowers? ‘Orange juice, milk, Coke …’

‘Is it diet?’

Hollie’s skinny – that her teacher phoned her dad doesn’t surprise me – and though I hardly ever see her eat, when she does, she wolfs down food as though she’s been starved for a month. Checking the can, I nod and pass it to her before getting another for myself, then going to the pantry for a bag of crisps.

‘Let’s go to your room.’ Hollie’s more on edge than usual, constantly glancing through doorways and windows, as if expecting someone to appear.

‘OK.’ I shrug, watching her run ahead up the stairs as I pick up my bag and follow her.

In my room, Hollie collapses on my bed, lying on her back and gazing at the ceiling. ‘This is the only place I feel safe.’ It’s the kind of overly dramatic thing she often says.

I half listen, wondering why she’s avoiding my mum. Then, suddenly, she sits up. ‘I saw your mum this morning. I bunked school.’

I’d already guessed it had to be something like that, otherwise she wouldn’t have been waiting for me at the bus stop.

‘She gave me one of those mother talks about not missing school. I thought she was different but she’s just like everyone else.’ Hollie sounds tearful.

Suddenly I’m irritated. It’s like last night all over again. Hollie tells me something terrible is going on, something she can’t talk about, and I’m supposed to just let her lie on my bed and wallow. Folding my arms, I stare at her, for some reason convinced there’s something she hasn’t told me yet. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happened.’

Before she can reply, there’s the scrunch of car tyres on gravel. Hollie leaps up and runs to the landing window. I follow more slowly.