A memory floods back. BTF we’d always leave the wishbone in the sun. When it was dry, I’d get to pull on it with my pinkie, one of my parents tugging the other side to snap it in half. I don’t know how they did it, but I always won.

I turn it between my fingers, the bone greasy to the touch. Last time I cracked a wishbone, I remember squeezing my eyes closed and begging that Mum would be well again.

Balancing the bone on the lip of my glass, I steal the last of the chicken skin and try to work out what I’d wish for this time.

Chapter 6

Dad’s laugh wakes me up. I hope it means he’s not going to work today. I didn’t actually think about the fact that Mum and I would be in the flat alone. I always imagined Dad would be around to broker some sort of peace. I don’t want to go out to the lounge, but I can’t lie in bed all day, and I really need to stop him leaving if he is going to work.

As I open my bedroom door, I realise I’m wearing Mum’s old t-shirt. I’ve been sleeping it in since I found it in the laundry basket months ago, and I haven’t told her. It’s too late to go back into my room and change it because I can see by the look on her face that she’s noticed.

‘Where’d you find that?’

I shrug. I wish I’d left it in the laundry basket.

‘I didn’t think I had anything from before,’ she says, and I realise how strange this must seem for her – seeing a piece of her clothing that didn’t burn.

‘You can have it back, Mum.’

She smiles at me. ‘Maybe wash it first! Try to get the jam off.’

I look down and notice the stain. ‘Sorry.’

But she just laughs like the old her and I want to stay in the moment forever.

‘I’ve left you each a croissant,’ says Dad. He looks at me and I notice a couple of hairs the barber must have missed because they’re sticking out at rebellious angles. They’re almost enough to make me smile. Then I realise what he’s just said. That he’s left me a croissant, which implies he’s going somewhere. I take in his work clothes.

‘Well, I’m off.’ Dad grabs his boots from the square of newspaper beside the bench. My heart speeds up at the thought of him walking out and I grab his arm.

‘You’re not working today, are you?’

He laughs. ‘Yes, honey.’