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The hallway was clean and tidy if not a little spartan, and Emmy’s apartment wasn’t all that different. The only personal touch was a small group of framed photos on a side table, and I couldn’t help taking a closer look.

“Is that the girl from the meeting?”

“Sofia?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yeah, and yes, it is. I’ve known her a long time now.”

“She didn’t say very much this morning.”

“She’s been under some stress lately. We all have.” Emmy crossed the lounge and opened a door on the far side. “Well, this is it. Sorry it’s kind of small.”

“It’s perfect.”

Reminiscent of the box room I’d been sleeping in for the last few weeks, in fact, and at the sight of the bed in front of me, complete with a maroon velvet bedspread and a pile of fluffy pillows, my mouth yawned all of its own accord.

“Tired?” Emmy asked.

Exhausted. “Would you mind if I just went to bed?”

“Of course not. You don’t want any dinner?”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“If you change your mind, feel free to raid the fridge. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”

21

When I woke the next day, still air told me the apartment was empty, but that didn’t stop me from peering around the door jamb just in case there was anyone home to see how atrocious I looked in the morning. Nope, nobody.

In the tiny kitchen, I found the cupboards stocked with the basics and a note from Emmy propped against a jar of Nescafé instant on the fold-out table.

Gone to work, call if you need anything. E.

Things I needed... My sister back, Ben back, and a new mother, but I could hardly request those.

Even the little things made me ache inside, like the jar of coffee. Angie had made me my first cupful every morning, and the thought of boiling the kettle for myself made me gulp back tears.

A chirp from my phone sent me rummaging through my handbag in the foolish hope the message might be from Ben, but no such luck. It was only Dorothy.

Dorothy

Your mother asked me to remind you it’s your sister’s funeral tomorrow, and the cars will be leaving the house at ten sharp.

Oh, for goodness’ sake, how did they think I would forget? I’d been trying to block it from my mind, but it lurked in the background and popped up unbidden every time I let my guard down.

The phone chirped again.

Dorothy

I’m sorry about what happened with your mother yesterday, and we all hope you’re okay.

Well, now I felt guilty for leaving the staff behind to face Mother alone.

I’m okay. Please tell Mother I’ll make my own way to the funeral.

She wouldn’t be happy about that, but I’d grown sick of trying to please her. Nothing I did would ever be good enough. I knew that now.

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