Clearly Leonie felt it was too far. ‘Anna, maybe wait until –’ she began, but Mum cut her off.

‘I’m sorry that you feel that way, Anna,’ she said stiffly. Her walls had shot up. Those same old walls. ‘But you shouldn’t be here. You had no right to come barging in here. This is from my life. Perhaps I should have said something before but it’s too late now. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You just need to come with me now.’ Mum gestured to her shiny hire car, gleaming like a silver bullet in the driveway.

I stood up straight then. It was now. Now or never. I had to say it, loudly and clearly. ‘Mum, I’m not going to go with you. I’ve left. Properly. That’s why I’m here. I’ve left you. There’s a note at home. I’ve moved out.’

Mum stood still and looked at me. ‘But . . .’ She shook her head slightly, not comprehending. ‘Anna, I know I made things a bit hard for you before, I know. But I told you, it’s going to be different. I’ve promised Dad, and now I’m promising you.’

‘It’s too late, Mum. It’s too late. You’ve been stuffing everything up for me. You must see that.’

‘Please, honey,’ Mum said, softening suddenly and holding out her hands. ‘I wanted to apologise, Anna. Again. For the other night.’

I wanted to believe her. To go with what she was saying. I had done it before. I had acquiesced, given in, allowed her to pull me into a big squeezy hug. Part of me wanted to do that right now, so I could remember the way she used to hug me when I was little, when we hugged each other so hard, each trying to pop the other one’s head off and squeeze out their insides like toothpaste. I looked at her face. Her sober face. And it hurt. It fucking hurt. I loved her. I missed her. I needed her.

‘I wanted to explain to you what happened,’ Mum went on. ‘I didn’t want to do it in front of other people.’ She cast a glance at Leonie and Basil, who I could see were withdrawing, almost imperceptibly stepping back away from us. ‘But if that’s the way it has to be . . . I wanted you to know I was so sorry –’

‘You said that.’

‘And you know,’ she cleared her throat. ‘You know I was a little bit drunk. I was.’ I could see words forming in her mind, ready to pile out all at once, carrying whatever new explanatory narrative she had come up with to let herself off the hook. And I knew the longing I was feeling was for something I had never really had. ‘But Anna, it wasn’t just that,’ she said. ‘The letter from Bette, you and Nassim – ah!’ She breathed out heavily with frustration. ‘I can’t tell it the right way, it’s too –’