Getting home from the airport was an intimate experience. All four having travelled there together meant it was quite a squeeze on the way home with me and my in-laws in the back. I might be the tallest but Mum knows her place in the car – how can she possibly keep an eye on Dad’s driving and tell him all the things he’s doing wrong if she’s not in the front? She’s very committed to driving from the passenger seat.

We talk all the way up the M23, along the M25, and across the M4. There’s never normally a moment’s peace with Mum and Anju around anyway, but on this car journey I take great comfort from hearing them nattering away without taking a breath. I take relief from the fact I’m enjoying listening to what they’re saying. I feel present.

The five of us head straight to my place so I can show them some pictures. I’ll admit there is a twist in my tummy as I put the key in the lock and enter but the banner before me is a bit of a distraction.

‘Welcome home,’ they all cheer from behind, repeating the banner’s words.

Walking through my flat I see not only has it been decorated but the coffee table in the lounge, the one next to our mint sofa, has been covered with party food. From the variety of food on offer I can tell both Mum and Anju have had an input.

‘Thank you!’ I say, taken aback.

‘We just wanted to celebrate for once,’ says Mum.

‘Put some good feelings back in the flat,’ Sajan says, his hand resting on the mantelpiece next to the rest of Pia’s ashes, which are waiting for more trips, more scattering and more freedom.

‘Your mum and I have been working on our Rule,’ says Anju.

‘Rule?’ I ask.

‘You know, from Pia,’ Mum replies, smiling as she rolls her eyes at me.

‘I didn’t realize Pia gave you one,’ I say, feeling guilty for my naivety.

‘She said she wanted us to teach each other the dishes we love,’ says Anju, looking very pleased with the idea. ‘So we started.’

‘And now we’re going to do a weekly swap,’ smiles Mum. ‘Anju made the challah, I made the paratha. Other than that we’ve made what we know.’

‘Wait until next time, you’ll have no idea who made what!’ laughs Anju, leaning into Mum as they admire their work.