‘I ran into Quinn by chance at a party and I told him what you said about Tara taking my name. It’s not what she meant to do at all, Mum; she meant to call him Quinn as a tribute to you for all the help you gave her. She never imagined you wouldn’t call me Quinn too.’

‘What are you bringing all this up for, Minnie?’ her mum said, turning around and frowning at Minnie. ‘Why are you going around town talking about me to people?’

‘It’s not people, Mum, it’s Tara Hamilton – can you believe it, after all this time?’

‘I don’t need you rewriting history, Minnie. No one wants this all raked up.’

Her mother turned back to her chopping board. She picked up a saucepan from the counter and briskly swiped the onions into it, turning her back to Minnie as she moved the pan to the hob. They stood in silence. The Bake Off theme tune blared out from the next-door room; a hundred clock hands ticked.

‘You going to find that dog for me or what?’ said her mother.

‘Look, I got her number, I said you’d call her. Here, I’m writing it down and putting it on the fridge.’

Minnie couldn’t see her mother’s face but she saw her back go rigid before she reached up to the cupboard above the stove for a can of tomatoes. This wasn’t the reaction Minnie had expected.

‘Right, ad break, what are we ordering? I got a hankering for a vanilla and pistachio mille-foy with crème anglaisey,’ said Minnie’s dad, chuckling to himself as he came through to the kitchen. ‘It doesn’t half whet your appetite, that show! Oh, you’re cooking are you, Con?’

He pulled out a kitchen chair and sank his weight down onto it. He looked back and forth between his wife and daughter, then started tapping the broken pan-handle against the wooden kitchen table. ‘What you both looking so gloomy about?’

‘Nothing, stuff and nonsense,’ said her mother briskly. ‘Right, someone get the cheese out of the fridge. Can’t have pasta without cheese, can we?’

Over dinner, Minnie broke the news about the business. She asked if she could move home for a while. Her dad kicked back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs.

‘That’s a real shame, love, I always loved your cooking, thought you were onto a real winner there.’

He reached out and patted Minnie’s back. When her dad said something nice to her, it made Minnie want to curl up on his lap like she had as a girl. They used to watch endless Star Wars films together, and her dad would do all the characters’ voices. Minnie turned to look at her mother, who was methodically chewing a mouthful of pasta. She swallowed loudly, then without looking at Minnie started twirling another forkful of pasta.