She was lovely. She blinked at me as she sat down and I felt shy. She was dressed like that for him. But how was I going to get my mum back from being a stranger? I looked at Manus and Connor, they were stuck flat to the back of the sofa beside my dad. Not even their hands were moving. And their eyes were glued to her. She was sitting down the other side of them from my dad on the sofa and asking them how they were. Mr Adebisi was sitting on the floor in front of them. They couldn’t get out. And they couldn’t say anything.

‘How have you been?’

They looked at my dad, they looked back at her, and they shook their heads. She had her arms tucked in and her hands over on her knees like she was trying to cover them up. My dad was picking his nose and flicking it over his shoulder like he didn’t care. It was Busola was the one who had to say something.

‘Busola,’ my dad said, ‘fetch me gari, and not too much water.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s Mummy’s job.’

He couldn’t open his mouth before she shook the wig off her head, and held it out to my mum, ‘Do you want this back?’

My mum looked away from Busola’s cut-off hair down at her own bare knees. So did my dad.

‘Look what they’ve done to me,’ she said. And when my mum looked up, ‘When you coming back?’

Mr Adebisi thought that was good, because it was in his eyes when he told my dad, ‘Go there, take her things and come home.’

My dad wouldn’t budge.

‘Look at your children! It’s not for fear of losing her that you can lose her for them– it’s your wife, and the mother!’

‘If she wants to go, she can go,’ my dad said, ‘I don’t care.’

So it was all right, because she was ready to stay. But my mum didn’t say anything. Then he spoilt it by saying, ‘Go, they are your people, they don’t want us. Look how they are treating you. They have nothing to cover them?’

My mum stood up quickly and stumbled on her shoes putting her bag over her shoulder and went to pick up the suitcase. I ran over and got on top of it, holding the handle so she couldn’t lift it up, and looked at her. She was crying into her lashes, the strap of her shoulder bag fell off on to her wrist as she bent down. She picked me up but I didn’t let go the handle. She tried to get my fingers off and I didn’t let her. So she dropped her bag and I let go the suitcase to be in her arms.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m hungry,’ I said.