‘Only for the post office,’ she laughs briefly, as the doorbell rings. ‘I have to go and send some things to my office, but shall we have coffee again soon?’ She rests a hand against my cheek briefly before she picks up her bag and moves to the back door. I can smell her perfume. ‘You are not going mad, Allie. But I do think you should get those bones out of the house.’

Chapter Nineteen

‘I’m so sorry, Allie, I rang the bell and then you didn’t answer and I rang again, and then I thought, oh, maybe she’s feeding Leo, or he’s asleep …’ Tara starts talking the minute I open the door to her. ‘I didn’t wake him up, did I? I should know better, it’s not like I don’t know how annoying it is when someone wakes the baby up.’ She eyes the baby in the fancy travel system she is holding, the top of his head peeping out from the blue blanket.

‘Tara, it’s fine. Do you want to come in?’ Pulling the door open further, I stand aside to let Tara in, her face shiny with sweat.

‘Thanks. I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

‘Honestly, it’s fine.’ I gesture for her to follow me, calling to Mina that James is here to play. The two toddlers run upstairs to Mina’s room and I lead Tara along to the kitchen. ‘Come and have a drink. It’s a shame you weren’t here five minutes earlier, you could have met my mum.’

We step into the kitchen, empty apart from the baby and my mother’s crumpled cigarette packet left lying on the table. The baby lies in his pram, kicking and waving his tiny fists, and the chair where my mother sat is still pulled out at a slight angle. ‘Sorry,’ I say, as Tara takes a seat in the chair opposite, after parking the travel system in the hallway and sliding the baby out. ‘I haven’t had a chance to clean up from this morning yet.’

Tara looks around the kitchen, to the empty box on the worktop that held the food from Avó, the empty mugs in the sink. ‘Are you kidding me? This place is spotless compared to mine!’ she laughs. ‘This little chunk is nearly five months older than Leo and you’re far more organized than me.’

I turn to the kettle, filling it noisily as my cheeks flush a hot red, although I’m not sure why. I make tea for both of us and sit in the chair recently vacated by my mum, the wood cool against my bare legs.