I can’t read her expression, whether she’s judging me for even having a housekeeper or just envious. “She’s been with us since I was born, so she’s like a mum to me.” More so than my real one, but I don’t say it. “There’s a phone in the kitchen you can use.”

I sit at the kitchen table as she makes her call. I catch snippets of it. “Hi, Mum… yeah, good thanks. How was your day? Uh huh… yeah… I’m at Helen’s house. It’s the big one on the coastal path… Yeah… You should see it on the inside. Listen, can I sleep over here tonight? Helen’s… um… mum said it was ok. She says she can lend me some clothes and things… No, don’t worry, you don’t have to. It’s fine, I can borrow stuff… Yeah… yeah, I will. Thanks Mum. Love you.”

I look away. I can’t remember the last time I said that many words to my mother.

“Is Mother home?” I ask Martha.

“Yes, she’s upstairs, I believe, getting ready for this evening.”

The dinner party. I’d forgotten.

Martha places tiny china plates in front of us with miniature silver cake forks, at odds with the huge slabs of cake she has cut.

Tracey tucks straight into hers. I play around the edges, my mouth watering and my brain fighting with itself. “Tracey, I forgot to say, my parents are having a dinner party tonight. I hope that’s ok? We’re not invited or anything, but there’ll be old folk here.”

“Oh, are you sure they’re fine with me staying over then? Your parents?”

“They won’t care. I usually stay well out of the way when they have people over. That’s how they like it. I just thought it would be nice to have someone to hang with for a change.”

“Ok, I’m cool with that.”

“I have pizza for you girls for later, before the guests arrive – I’ll bring it up for you. And I’ll see what snacks I can rustle up, make it a real slumber party,” Martha says as she puts a pan of milk on to warm up for the hot chocolate and I love her for it.

“Thanks, Martha.” I jump up and give her a hug.

“Oh, you silly thing,” she says, but her cheeks are glowing.

The smell of hairspray and menthol cigarettes enters the room before my mother does. Her eyes narrow as she sees me with my arms still around Martha. “Martha, talk me through tonight’s menu,” she says, her voice tight. Her eyes fall on Tracey, but her face is expressionless under the mask of make-up.

“Hi, Mother. This is my friend, Tracey,” I say.