‘But …’ It’s possible my heart will explode in my chest if I don’t get him to stay. I hold his arm even tighter and I see his expression change when he realises why I don’t want him to leave.

‘It’ll be good for you two to spend some time together,’ he whispers, presumably so Mum can’t hear.

Before I can protest, he gives me his usual cheesy ‘Dad’ grin and announces loudly, ‘I have to go save our tree.’

I reach around and squeeze him, breathing in the earthy scent on his overalls, relieved there’s still dirt to smell.

‘It’s okay,’ he says softly as he bends down and kisses the top of my head, and for a second it’s like she’s not here. But then he wriggles his way free.

‘Can’t I come with you? I told them I’d be in this week to finish the weeding,’ I say.

‘No, honey. Not today. I think you should stay with your mum …’ says Dad, quietly, even though it’s clear Mum can hear us.

I shake my head. One of the worst things about being short is that people look over the top of you and you can’t always see their expressions. I can guess what Dad’s face might look like now, as he silently communicates with my mother, but I don’t actually get to see it from down here.

‘Please, Dad.’

‘Not today, honey.’

My left leg wobbles like my knee is going to snap. I lean against the bench. I see him walk towards Mum and lean down to kiss her on the cheek. She whispers something, but I can’t hear what it is. And then he’s gone.

Everything hangs still and waiting. My heart hasn’t exploded. My breathing is normal again and Mum moves past me to the kitchen.

‘I’ll heat up the croissants.’

I don’t answer.

‘Clem? A bit of help,’ she says, fiddling with the buttons on the stove, where the pilot light is teasing her with its blue glow.

I should tell her the trick that Dad taught me when we first moved in – press the button down with one hand and, with the other, reach in with a lit match near the pilot light and hold it there for ages till it finally jumps into action. I remember Dad telling me it was just a little tricky, that’s all.

Before I can decide to help her, Mum slams the oven door shut. I see the fury in her face as she spins around and marches past me. It doesn’t give me the release I was hoping for. Instead, I just feel empty. The flat’s so small there’s nowhere for her to go except the bathroom, but at least, once that door is shut, I’ll have the kitchen to myself. Just how I like it.