The bread sags slightly as it starts to cool. I don’t wait for Maggie. I saw off the end, letting a puff of steam bellow out. Then I smother the slice with butter and watch it melt.

‘This bread’s a bit flat, isn’t it? The air’s too humid,’ says Maggie, placing a teapot and some cups on the table.

She cuts herself a couple of slices, which are much neater than mine. Adjusting herself in the chair, she breathes in deeply and her body expands like her catfish before he chases the smaller fish around for fun. This is Maggie’s way of taking everything in, absorbing it all before she speaks. It used to be sort of strange, but now it’s just reassuring.

I use the time to arrange what I want to say in my mind because I care what Maggie thinks of me. With Maggie, I can’t just blurt out my thoughts like I do with Bridge.

‘Mum’s coming home,’ I say, finally, before taking a bite of bread. ‘And I’m not sure we’ll all fit.’ Saying it out loud makes me want to stretch my arms as wide as I can to mark out a space for myself.

‘Your flat isn’t really built for three. But I’m guessing you don’t mean physically.’

I notice a smear of breadcrumbs and jam on Maggie’s cheek. It makes me think of Mum, of how she’d lick her thumb and wipe a stain from my face when I was little. And if it was a Vegemite smudge, I’d cop a couple of thumb licks.

‘Dad didn’t ask me how I feel about it.’

I can’t focus on anything. The room’s too bright. My eyes feel scratchy and I sniff loudly as Maggie pours my tea.

‘Clem, after I offered for Matt to come and stay, I had this awful claustrophobic feeling. I don’t mind sharing my flat with my fish, but a person is quite different. Since he’s been here, we’ve moved around each other like fish occupying different ends of the tank, until last night when we shared the couch. It wasn’t so bad. It’s going to take a while, Clem.’

‘I know. But what if …’

My heart pounds so hard that it stops me from saying what I know I shouldn’t say.

‘What if you never want her there?’

I nod, knowing that admitting it out loud would make me feel terrible.

‘I didn’t know you before the fire, but I think that you loved your mum very much. Your love is still there, Clem. It might just be a bit hidden. Like daffodil bulbs, which live in the ground during winter and need a bit of warmth to flower. It’ll be back.’