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said pointedly. “I don’t want to be late.”
    â€œHave fun,” Meghan trilled.
    â€œMake sure Lily does her homework.”
    â€œYou doubt me?”
    â€œDon’t forget to check on Mum, either.” When it came to Meghan, Rachel couldn’t help but give instructions. She’d been bossing her sister around since she was twelve and Meghan was eight, when she’d stepped up and taken over from their mother, while Meghan had come home late from school and hidden in her room and their father had done his best to find work.
    â€œI
will
, Rachel,” Meghan answered, and for once she actually sounded impatient rather than breezy.
    Rachel hesitated, caught between wanting to escape and needing to stay, to make sure everything was under control. Finally she relented. “Okay, then,” she said. “Thanks.”
    She was at the front door when she heard her mother call from her bedroom.
    â€œRachel? Love?”
    Slowly Rachel turned around and cracked open the door to the dining room; her father had turned it into a bedroom for her mother more than ten years ago, when stairs had become too difficult for her to manage on a regular basis.
    â€œHey, Mum.” Rachel stood in the doorway, trying not to breathe in the stale smell of sickness and cigarette smoke that permeated theair. Her mother had refused to quit her pack-a-day habit despite the doctor’s repeated urgings. She claimed it was one of the few comforts left her, which Rachel could reluctantly understand.
    Now Janice Campbell sat propped up in bed, a couple of pillows behind her back, her face puffy from prescription pills and gray with pain. “Sweetheart,” she said, and sank back into the pillows with a wheezy sigh.
    They stared at each other for a moment, both of them helpless in their silence, because what was there to say? Janice never left the house. Rachel didn’t do anything but work. They’d never had much in common to begin with; Rachel had been a determined Daddy’s girl ever since she was small, wearing dungarees and a flat cap, avidly watching her dad work a lathe.
    Joss Campbell had been a carpenter by trade, although he’d never been employed regularly. He’d supplemented his income with stints on the dole and shifts at various restaurants and shops. When he’d been younger he’d wanted to study architecture, but he’d told Rachel university hadn’t been for the likes of him. He’d promised it would be for her. Too bad he’d reneged on that one, along with a dozen others. Like in sickness and in health.
    To make up for the silence now, Rachel busied herself as she always did. She plumped her mother’s pillows and then poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, which Janice probably wouldn’t drink. She rearranged the bottles of prescription painkillers her mother had been on for fifteen years and aligned the box of tissues so the bottles and box made a right angle. Finally, having run out of ways to look and feel useful, she stepped back.
    â€œYou’re going out?” Janice asked, wheezing, and Rachel nodded.
    â€œIt’s Thursday. Pub quiz.”
    â€œRight.” Rachel shifted where she stood and then glanced down at her top; maybe it really was too clingy. “You look nice, love.”
    â€œThanks, Mum.”
    Her mother gave a grimace that Rachel suspected was meant to be a playful smile. “You wearing that for someone special?”
    â€œNo. I just wanted to look nice.” Rachel pulled at her sweater and then took a step towards the door. “Sorry. I should go. I don’t want to be late.”
    â€œOf course, love. You have a good time. I know how hard you work.” Janice plucked at the bedcover with plump fingers. “Everything’s all right, isn’t it, Rach?” she asked.
    Rachel tensed, one hand on the doorknob. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    â€œIt’s only