‘Possibly, I don’t know.’ My mother shrugs. ‘I only know how I felt when you were born. Naomi doesn’t know about these things; she hasn’t had a baby, has she? Are you happy with Rav? Maybe it’s your mind trying to tell you that he is not the one.’

Bloody hell. I should have known that she would start on Rav, that it would be Rav’s fault. ‘Mum, I am perfectly happy with Rav.’ And I am, most of the time. I don’t think about the way he never told me about the history of the house, the smell of perfume on his clothes, the text from Naomi on his phone. A faint cry comes from upstairs and I raise my eyes to the ceiling. ‘The baby is crying. Let me go and get him, and Mum, don’t go anywhere, will you?’

When I walk back downstairs, my mother is sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to where Mina sits curled into the cushion, one hand stroking Mina’s dark curls.

‘Is everything OK?’ I ask her, jiggling the baby as he fusses in my arms, his little face scrunched and sweaty. ‘Was Mina crying?’ It’s been so long since Mina saw my mother, I’m not sure she wouldn’t confuse her with a stranger.

‘No, she is sleeping.’ My mother gives Mina’s hair one last stroke before she gets to her feet and brushes past me back to the kitchen. I step into the living room and see she is right. Mina is curled on the sofa, her head resting on a cushion, her mouth slightly open as her breath whistles in and out. It’s unusual for her to sleep this early in the day, but maybe the baby woke her last night with his cries. I decide to leave her for half an hour and follow my mother back into the kitchen, shivering as a quiet scratch comes from the chimney.

‘So, you have something else you want to talk about?’ My mother gazes at me, her blue eyes clear and bright and I get the sense of being under a microscope. She used to look at me the same way when I was young, and unease makes my shoulders tighten.

‘We could talk about what you’re doing here,’ I say, my words sharp. I lay the baby in the Moses basket, then turn to fill the kettle and throw teabags into mugs, avoiding meeting her eyes.

‘I don’t want tea. I am here to see you, you know that. You asked me to come. Leave that. Come and sit with me. Anyone would think you’re not pleased I am here.’