‘Come in. There’s someone I want you to meet,’ she says, ushering me into the cool. She squeezes my arm gently and my body relaxes at her touch. Maggie shuts the door behind us and says, ‘Matty?’

I expect a little kid to pop up but, instead, a tall, skinny boy leans out from the bathroom doorway and looks at us, his brown shaggy hair falling across his face.

‘Matt, actually,’ he says dryly. He straightens up. ‘I haven’t been Matty since I was five.’

I try to look back at him, but he’s staring at me intently from under his fringe, so I keep my gaze on Maggie. I wonder if she minds Matt’s rude comment.

‘This is my nephew. Matt. I haven’t seen him for a few years. But he’s come to stay. You guys are about the same age, so I thought maybe you could show him around, Clem.’

‘Me?’

Maggie forces a laugh. ‘Well, he doesn’t want me showing him around. I’m older than his mother.’

‘That’s right. I don’t,’ says Matt.

Maggie shifts uncomfortably. I glance up at him again and notice his faded grey t-shirt, torn jeans and dark eyes, and wonder if I look as dishevelled as he does. He shrugs at me like he’s sorry I’m being put out.

Surprising even myself, I nod. ‘Okay,’ I say, sounding like it’s anything but.

Maggie hugs me in response, and I know I’ve at least made her happy. Today seems like one of those days where I’m just doing the right thing by everyone else. Hopefully Matt will turn out to be more pleasant than he is right now. His surliness seems to have thrown Maggie off, too. She’s acting a bit uneasy, and that’s unusual for her. It makes me wonder why he’s staying if he and Maggie aren’t close.

‘Well, you two can get to know each other now. I’ve just made bread,’ says Maggie, knowing that I’ll pretty much agree to anything for her fresh bread. But I’m not sure that it’s worth having to make awkward small talk with Matt.

‘Um,’ I stall, trying desperately to invent an excuse.

‘Shower,’ says Matt, before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door slightly harder than necessary.

Maggie exhales, sounding relieved. ‘Come on. Now we can eat in peace,’ she says, heading for the table.

I’ve been here often enough when Maggie’s just baked, so I know the ritual. I grab the wooden chopping board, the butter and three different jams, and set the table with everything we need to demolish the loaf of bread. I hope Matt takes ages in the shower so I can talk to Maggie without him around. I need to spill all the thoughts jumbling about in my head.