I slide my fingers out and touch her hand, trying to drag her back to our moment. ‘Maggie? It’s okay. He’s just trying it on,’ I say quietly, because I know all about that.

It takes her a second to remember I’m here. And then she nods. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’

I wait for her smile, for the crinkled lines to move up and crease her face, but they don’t come. Maybe she doesn’t want to share her flat with Matt after all. If Maggie can’t do it, then how am I supposed to?

‘How are you feeling about school, Clem?’ she says, breaking my thoughts.

‘Okay, I guess.’

I roll some breadcrumbs between my fingers, making a little dough ball. I’m aware Maggie’s watching me and I wonder what she’s seeing. Matt tosses the sponge onto the table and wipes roughly.

‘Matt is going there, too. But he’ll be in year nine.’

‘I’m not going,’ he says, walking back to the kitchen.

‘Oh, yes, you are,’ she calls out. ‘You aren’t sitting in this flat all day on your own.’

Maggie smiles at me, a quiet smile meant just for us. I’m not sure what I’ve got myself into.

‘You can walk with Clem,’ Maggie says. ‘That okay with you, Clem?’

I shrug hesitantly. It’s not like Maggie to corner me. Usually she’s my way out. But I want to smooth the moment over, because right now awkward interactions seem to be trailing me like a shadow. ‘Course.’

‘You starting year seven?’ He’s looking past me, around me. It’s weird. I’m not sure if he’s nervous or whether he thinks I’m nervous, but I’m beginning to feel that not even Maggie’s fresh bread is worth this.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good luck,’ he says sarcastically.

I snort and crumbs fly out of my nose. They hit the table. Matt laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen and I don’t know how to react. Matt’s now looking at me in the eye again, and I have a mouthful of sweet, claggy bread that I want to spit out. I force myself to swallow. Even Maggie seems a bit lost. She starts pouring more tea for all of us, like that will fix it. I watch Matt add a heaped spoonful of sugar, and then another, and another, and then stir slowly, the spoon dragging across the porcelain bottom, making that noise everyone hates.

‘Did you see the succulent is flowering, Clem?’

I look across at Maggie. She’s trying so hard to make this normal.

‘Yeah, I did. It’s beautiful, but I thought the flower was supposed to be red.’