‘We went to the same school,’ I say, managing finally to get the towel out of the toddler’s tight little fist, but he immediately reattaches himself with both hands and yanks on it even harder. I look around helplessly for someone to intervene. If there was a checklist for the ideal babysitter, I would tick every single box for even the most overprotective parent, but despite this I have no practical experience and I really do not know what to do with small children. Are you allowed to pick them up if they’re not yours? Will they obey you if you speak in a firm authoritative voice, like a dog might?

‘Brooke, of course, you’re Michelle’s daughter,’ Jesse’s dad says, seemingly unconcerned about the battle I am engaged in with his child. His tone sounds disapproving, but it’s hard to tell if that is his voice’s natural cadence or a pronouncement on my mother, or both.

‘Yes. Michelle’s daughter. Hello.’ I’m dripping water onto the floor, and I try to casually wipe it with my bare foot and continue edging towards my room, toddler in tow.

Jesse still hasn’t said anything. He’s just holding the boxes, watching me floundering, an inscrutable look on his face.

‘Jesse, for god’s sake, you haven’t even said hello,’ Jesse’s father snaps. ‘How ’bout you set a good example for your brothers and sister once in a while, huh?’ That heavy disapproving tone again. I have a sudden memory of Nanna describing Jesse’s father as an unpleasant man. Admittedly, she has said this about at least half of the men in our town (including the lovely local GP who bulk-bills even though he doesn’t have to, the smiling brothers who run the butcher shop and give us extra meat for her Siamese cat Minty, and a widower who lives on our street who politely asked her out to lunch), but I think her assessment in this case was accurate. There’s a moment of silent awkwardness.

‘Sorry. Yeah. Hi Brooke,’ Jesse says, clearing his throat.

I last saw him maybe three months ago, on graduation night, but he somehow seems taller now.

‘Hi Jesse,’ I say, trying to look nonchalant and dignified while semi-naked and battling a toddler.

Jesse puts his boxes down and walks over to me. I’m worried about what he’s planning to do, but he leans down, says ‘Come here you’, and scoops up his brother, throwing him over his shoulder in a way that makes the boy scream with delight.