‘I don’t want you showing me up and embarrassing me. You’re going to this camp night, young lady, so you’d better get used to the idea.’

As if to reinforce her point, Jane Lawrence insisted on driving her to the farm, not trusting Hannah to cycle there, and unfortunately by doing so, it meant Hannah was the first one of her friends to arrive.

Mrs W was all smiles as she opened the door, talking to her mother briefly as she wiped her hands on her apron, telling her about all the games and treats she had planned.

Hannah could smell the waft of frankfurter sausages and onions, but it only made her stomach churn with nausea.

‘Don’t you worry. Hannah will have a great time. I’ll make sure she does.’

She turned to face Hannah as her mother drove away. The smile was still on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Hannah’s legs threatened to buckle, as she remembered her last visit.

‘Come on inside and you can help me finish getting everything ready.’ Mrs W’s tone was easy-going, friendly even, but that could all be an act. Hannah could hardly refuse though.

‘Okay.’ She just wanted to get tonight out of the way, then never come back here.

The woman took her backpack, then made her wash her hands before asking her to do a number of mundane tasks, such as putting crisps into bowls and sorting cutlery.

Bill didn’t seem to be about, thankfully, and Hannah guessed he was outside somewhere doing his chores.

As they worked, Mrs W hummed an unfamiliar tune, pretty much ignoring her. Still, Hannah was careful with each job she was given, terrified of drawing attention to herself by accidentally dropping something or getting one of her tasks wrong.

When Rosie showed up, relief eased the knots of tension in her shoulders.

‘Well, don’t you look lovely in your pink jumper,’ Mrs W was gushing as she welcomed Rosie inside, before saying goodbye to her dad.

‘Can I help?’ Rosie was more eager than Hannah, but then she would be. She hadn’t seen Mrs W without her mask.

She was given the job of laying out the cookies, which she took very seriously as she lifted them from the tray where they had been cooling, arranging them prettily on the plate.

‘What’s that tune?’ she asked, as Mrs W resumed her humming.

For a moment, the woman seemed distracted, as if she hadn’t heard her, but then she smiled.

‘It’s from my music box.’

‘What’s a music box?’

Mrs W wiped her hands on her apron. ‘You’re doing a beautiful job with those biscuits,’ she praised, looking at Rosie’s plate. ‘You finish laying them out and I’ll go and get my music box to show you.’

She disappeared from the room and Rosie grinned at Hannah. ‘She is so cool.’