Henrietta screwed up her nose. ‘Laura Denning. Of course you never knew her before. She’s always been like this, but I really thought she’d cut back a bit, now she has a child.’

Henrietta was eyeing her, waiting for a reaction.

‘Maybe she has a lot of work on,’ Mia said. ‘Gin and slimline, please,’ she added to the barman.

Henrietta leaned in. ‘Well, she won’t like the fact you’re doing so well. Do you think she knows yet? About Coopers not wanting her back?’

Mia glanced at Bryony. ‘No, I don’t think she does,’ she said quietly, though the way gossip spread, she was sure it wouldn’t be long.

‘She’ll be hoping it goes badly, I’m sure of it.’

Mia really didn’t have a response for that. Or rather she did, but she wasn’t going to say anything. Especially not to Henrietta. ‘I certainly hope that’s not the case,’ she said, as Henrietta raised her eyebrows.

It was ten p.m. by the time Mia eventually got home. The house was in darkness except for a bedroom light at the far end. She was glad she’d remembered to stop by the car, but even more pleased that she’d gone to the pub, because it was nicer walking into the bungalow with the buzz of alcohol fizzing around her body.

Twisting her key in the lock, Mia nudged open the front door and immediately heard raised voices from the far end of the hallway.

She switched on the table lamp and closed the door behind her. No natural light reached the hall, which made it oppressive, and it didn’t help that her mum had a patterned carpet and dark-green walls that were cluttered with photos taken over the years. Mia no longer looked at any of them as she walked past and down to the bedroom at the far end.

The door was wide open and she could see her mum in her faded purple dressing gown that was frayed at the hem and cuffs. Her hands were gripped tightly together in front of her. Even from here, Mia could see her knuckles forming white circles under the pressure.

‘Mum?’

‘Oh, Mia,’ she said with relief when she looked up. Mia took a step into the room. Her sister was lying on the single bed, facing the wall. ‘She won’t talk to me.’

‘Then leave her,’ Mia urged.

‘I can’t,’ her mum mouthed. The words were uttered so quietly that Mia wasn’t sure she’d actually said them aloud. Her eyes were rimmed with tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks, and her thin grey hair was pushed back off her face with an Alice band, which meant she’d either been in bed or about to get into it.

‘Jess?’ Mia said to her sister. ‘Do you want to talk to me?’