She might not be as smart as her sister, but she knew enough to understand that living with people who made you feel worse about yourself wasn’t good for the soul. She needed a job and a little place of her own, but there was no chance of either in London.

After everything that had happened, she’d had no choice but to move back with her parents. She hoped they didn’t reach the point where they killed each other.

“Hi, Martha!” Pippa bounced down the stairs, hair swinging in a sleek ponytail. “How is Steven? Still behaving like a shit?”

She couldn’t even lose at love without her sister knowing.

Martha looked gloomily at the shiny ponytail. Pippa even won at hair.

“Pippa! Don’t you look a picture.” Their mother beamed. “Are you off to work? Treating anyone famous today?”

“Day off. I have a yoga class in thirty minutes. I need something to eat before I leave.” Pippa headed for the kitchen and Martha followed her.

She’d made cupcakes the day before using her grandmother’s favorite recipe, and there were still a couple left. She offered one to her sister who shook her head.

“No thanks. I’m making myself a green smoothie.”

Winning at the healthy diet too, Martha thought, watching as her sister dropped apple, spinach, cucumber and various other healthy ingredients into the blender and proceeded to whiz it together into an unappetizing-looking pale green liquid. If Martha had found a blob of it on the kitchen surface she would have covered it in antibacterial spray.

Her mother reappeared. “Don’t forget to clean the kitchen floor, Martha.”

Her life was so exciting she could hardly bear it.

She finished the cupcake and unlocked the back door. Across the fence she saw their elderly neighbor, Abigail Hartley, struggling to hang her sheets on the line. The edges were hanging perilously close to the ground.

“I’ll do that for you, Mrs. Hartley.” Martha sprinted round the side of the house and into the adjoining garden. “You shouldn’t be doing that with your arthritis.”

“You’re a kind girl, Martha.”

“It’s no trouble.” At least Abigail thanked her for helping with laundry. In her own house everyone took it for granted.

“I struggle to lift my arms above my head.”

“I know. It must be so hard for you.” Martha pegged the sheets securely. “I’ll come back later and bring them in so don’t worry about that.”

“You’re very flexible and strong.”

Flexible. Strong.

No one hung sheets like she did. She was winning at laundry.

Mrs. Hartley tried to push money into her hand and Martha was appalled that for a moment she was tempted to take it. Right now she couldn’t even afford to buy a new hair clip and every little bit helped.