‘Sensible,’ said Cathy. ‘You putting the kettle on, Anna?’ So that was going to be my role here. Supporting actress. Cathy asked, ‘So, “Nassim”. Where does that name hail from?’

I filled the kettle in the sink while Nassim sat on a stool on the other side of the bench and my mother sat opposite him.

‘Marrickville,’ he said with a deadpan face, and Cathy laughed. ‘But my parents are from Beirut, which is, I assume, what you’re really asking?’ And then his cheeky smile, ‘And where are you from, Cathy?’ and Mum laughed again.

Nassim was right. He was good at parents. Perhaps I could relax.

‘Me?’ said Cathy. ‘Whitebread Aussie. Country Victoria.’

‘You have Dutch heritage too, Mum,’ I said, still keen to mine our own family background for anything remotely interesting.

‘Well, obviously,’ said Nassim, ‘with Anna’s hair and eyes – clearly some serious Scandi heritage there.’

‘BeNeLux, actually,’ said Mum in a way that was both confusing and brusque, like the punchline to a joke designed to go over your head. ‘But yes, my father was some nobody who came over from Holland. My mother, however, is from the old Anglo-Aussie landed gentry. They had a big sheep run down there. I am Australian royalty, don’t you know. A princess of sheep poo and dust,’ Mum said sparkily. She was in full flight, her whole professional powerhouse persona. She went to the cupboard and took down a bottle of red wine and a large wine glass. ‘This is a good one,’ she said. ‘Some lovely blackberry notes.’ And she poured herself a proud glass. ‘You staying for dinner, Nassim? I could order us up some Thai, or something from that new Afghan place?’

Mum hated Afghan food. For a moment I wondered if she knew Beirut was in Lebanon, not Afghanistan.

‘No thank you, Cathy,’ said Nassim. ‘My mother will be making dinner already. She likes a bit more warning if I’m planning to miss it.’

‘She sounds like a dream mother,’ Mum said airily. ‘I never could quite manage that.’

‘Hey Mum, there’s mail,’ I said, delivering tea to all three of us and the pile of envelopes to her. ‘I wish you’d check it as you come in, it’s not that hard.’

‘Alright, alright, no need to be snooty about it.’ Mum left her tea to get cold and refilled her wine glass as she leafed through the envelopes. Was she just starting? Had she had some upstairs? Difficult to know when I hadn’t been home to take notice, to tally the drinks up as they went in. Impossible to be ready. Right now she had an edge I couldn’t quite get a read on.

‘Heard from Dad?’ I said. Sometimes mentioning him was enough to ground her a bit.

Nassim chimed in. ‘Oh yes, Anna said Joe was in Germany for a while. I was very sorry to hear your father-in-law is unwell.’

‘Well, we were going to head over too these school holidays, weren’t we, Anna?’ Mum said. ‘But then I suddenly had to present at this big Integrated Technologies Conference in New Zealand – Blockchain and alpha-testing and – well, it’s all palaver you don’t need to know about. And Anna, well, Anna is just study study study. Like if she doesn’t become a doctor she might turn into a pumpkin or something.’