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question. So I don’t say anything. I climb into the passenger seat next to her and fasten my seat belt.

8
    The Palace Hotel sits at the top of the cliffs. Not that they’re proper cliffs with scary death-drops. The cliffs in Brampton-on-Sea roll into the ocean like a soft blanket. Sailing boats are dots in the distance. The clouds are creamy against the horizon.
    The hotel is where the posh weddings and mayors’ banquets are held. And here I am sitting at one of their tables by the window with a stiff napkin on my lap and a plate of battered fish called calamari on the plate in front of me. And I’m with my mum.
    ‘Well, go on, have a taste. It’s very common in America,’ Mum says.
    I dip a piece of calamari into tomatoey sauce and pop it into my mouth. It’s rubbery but good. I reach for more.
    ‘Told you you’d like it,’ Mum says. She pushes her white wine towards me. I take a sip and giggle. I feel sort of light-headed, but I don’t know if it’s because of the wine or how excited I am to be with my mum. She takes back her glass and guzzles down the last bit. Then she holds it up for the waiter to see. He scutters off to fetch another. ‘Nothing like a chilled glass of Chardonnay,’ she says.
    She gazes out at the sea.
    The tide is in. Waves crash against the cliffs in thick, noisy gulps. Mum stares for a few minutes and I watch her, not saying anything.
    The waiter places the wine on the table between us. Without taking her eyes from the sea, Mum reaches for the glass and sips. She doesn’t really resemble other mums: she’s wearing loads of chunky necklaces over a thin T-shirt. And her nose is pierced.
    ‘When I was your age, I had a boyfriend called Glen. He was four years older than me, and I used to sneak down to the seafront with him. He always had money for beers. That’s naughty, isn’t it?’ She looks at me like she expects me to say something. I try to think of what she wants to hear. Then she yawns, so I pop another piece of calamari into my mouth and chew. ‘How is it living with Nana?’
    ‘Nice. OK. She’s a bit strict.’
    Mum snorts. ‘Nothing changes there. She used to make me miserable.’
    ‘It’s better than living with Dad. Then I’d have to see his new wife every day. Her name’s Trish. I hate her.’
    Mum laughs. ‘I think there’s a law that you’re meant to hate your stepmother!’
    ‘I suppose.’ I push a piece of calamari across my plate. It’s too much to finish.
    ‘Want dessert? I’m having a piece of the warm choc­olate fudge cake.’
    ‘That sounds lovely,’ I say, still hardly able to believe I’m really with my mum. This is the best day of my life.
    Ever.

9
    Eventually Mum and I have to go back to Nana’s house, and when we get through the door, it’s like jumping into a box of exploding fireworks.
    Nana sends me straight upstairs where I burrow beneath my duvet to try to drown out the sound of Nana screaming. Derry nuzzles my neck. It doesn’t help. I can still hear them.
     
    Nana: How dare you take her out of school without telling me! I was out of my mind with worry. I thought she’d been abducted, for God’s sake. I called the hospital and the police.
    Mum: I have a right to see my own child.
    Nana: Since when? Five hours ago? You stroll into her life like the last eleven years haven’t even happened. I won’t have you hurting her, do you hear me?
    Mum: We were having fun. She’s happy. Go and ask her.
    Nana: I’m sure she is, Annie. But that might be because she’s thirteen years old and you took her drinking . Do you think that’s how a mother behaves?
    Mum: She had a few sips.
    Nana: And I suppose that makes it OK?
    Mum: I’m sorry, but I’m back in Brampton for good, and I want a relationship with her. I hope you can support that.
    Nana: How dare you? I’ve spent years trying to persuade you to take an interest in Apple.
    Mum: I’ve always been interested in her. I’ve had . . . things to sort out. I couldn’t be what