‘It’s just onions and beef for a Bolognese. Matteo hates to break the no-meat rule, but as he’s not here I thought I’d be wicked,’ she said, speaking in the colourless voice of one taking no joy in her crime. ‘And you like it, right?’ She opened the door wider so that Esther could step from the outside staircase entrance into the little kitchen.

‘I love it,’ Esther cried, finding it hard not to overcompensate for Lily’s lacklustre mood, ‘and to be cooked for is such a treat. I am one spoilt mum.’ She kicked off her heels and removed her bright jacket, draping it on the overladen peg behind the kitchen door, pursuing a deep protective instinct to dial down her appearance to something more in line with her daughter’s; though, in truth, that would have been hard, given that Lily was in her oldest, baggy-kneed, tracksuit bottoms and a shapeless, long-sleeved T-shirt, grey from wrong washing cycles. Her small, pale feet were bare and, like her fingers, sporting now broken flecks of red nail varnish from their treatments at the weekend. ‘Right then.’ Esther rubbed her hands together. ‘Set me to work.’

‘There’s nothing to do. Just relax. Thanks for these.’ Lily dropped the bunch of carnations – in their wrapping – into an empty coffee jar that barely reached half way up the stems and added a splash of water, before picking up a wooden spoon and prodding at the chunks of pink mince and glistening onion sizzling in a small blackened frying pan on the hob. ‘Maybe the mushrooms, then?’ she said as Esther hovered. She nodded at a box of large muddied field mushrooms sitting on the little table squeezed up against the wall, next to a recycling crate overflowing with cardboard and paper.

‘There’s a chopping board, and a decent knife somewhere, in the sink, I think.’ Lily gestured vaguely with her spoon.

Esther wiped the board, which was dirty, and rolled up her sleeve to fish inside the washing-up bowl, packed with several meals’ worth of crockery. She managed to pluck out a thick-handled, serrated knife and ran it under the tap before returning to her task.

The mushrooms peeled beautifully, the skin coming off in long thick sheets. ‘So, is Matteo rehearsing or—?’

‘Why are you doing that?’ Lily was standing over her with the spoon.

‘What?’

‘Peeling them. The skin is the best bit.’ The spoon dripped a couple of blobs of mince on the floor as she swung back to the hob.

‘Sorry, darling. No more peeling. Guide’s honour.’ Esther cast round for something with which to wipe down the mushrooms instead, eventually settling on a grubby tea towel. ‘All those auditions must have been quite a pain for you,’ she pressed on. ‘Has Matteo found a good new lead singer?’ She shuffled the tea towel to find a clean corner.