Her sister was on the other side of the room in front of a broken mirror. Shards of glass lay around her, and one of her hands was clutching a sharp piece, pressing it into her fingertip.

‘Seven years’ bad luck,’ her sister murmured, so softly she was barely audible, before letting out a chuckle. ‘How ironic would that be, to have seven more?’

‘Jess?’ Mia stepped towards her carefully. ‘What happened?’ she asked again. When she was at her sister’s side she reached out for the piece of glass still pressing into Jess’s flesh and gently prised her fingers apart until she could take it.

‘It was an accident,’ Jess said sharply. ‘I didn’t – I wasn’t doing it on purpose,’ she snapped. ‘I knocked the damn radio into the mirror. I didn’t even want it here. It was you who put the thing on the dressing table.’

Mia ignored her. ‘You’re bleeding,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you a plaster.’

Jess lowered her head and gazed at the drop of bright-red blood that appeared like a tear on the end of her finger. Slowly she lifted it to her lips and held it in there. ‘It’s not that bad – I don’t need one.’

Mia sank down onto the end of the bed and slowly turned her sister to face her.

‘Talk to me,’ she said softly, but Jess shook her head.

‘No. Tell me something about your life instead,’ Jess replied. ‘Talk to me about something else. Something from the outside world.’ Tears had filled her sister’s eyes and Mia fought hard not to reach out and wipe them away.

Mia laughed. ‘I have nothing to talk about, other than work.’

‘Then tell me about that.’

That was the one thing Mia really didn’t want to talk to Jess about, but her sister was searching her eyes, pleading with her to take her out of whatever moment she was currently in, so she had to say something.

‘It’s fine,’ she shrugged eventually. ‘Some of the women are a laugh.’

‘And you’re still glad they made you permanent?’

Mia nodded. Yes, she had definitely been pleased about that.

‘So you’re happy, then? Because you don’t need to stay here, you know. It was never supposed to be for this long.’

Mia didn’t know how to answer, because what could she tell her sister? That of course she didn’t want to be at Morris & Wood for much longer; this wasn’t her dream job, she didn’t care about selling health drinks.

In London, she’d once had a job that meant something. What she’d once done had made a difference: working for a charity – helping people. Then she’d had to give it up and move back to Lymington, to her mum’s home.

‘Of course I’m happy,’ Mia smiled.