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‘Who was that?’

‘Rory,’ she said, unable to keep a little smile from her lips but keeping her eyes firmly on the ground. ‘I met him in Pret a Manger.’

Blimey. Not fantasizing like me, actually having a romantic encounter. My family were streets ahead of me. In so many ways.

‘Is he a student?’

‘What?’

‘Rory. Is he a student?’ He looked about eighteen. But then Anna was tall for her age.

‘Dunno.’

‘At the university?’

She shrugged.

‘Where does he live? We could have given him a lift.’

She rolled her eyes at me as we went out to the car. ‘Mum…’

I opened the doors and she got in. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was none of my business who she met in coffee bars. I waited as she got in beside me. Odd how, in such a short space of time, she looked different. Thinner. Taller.

‘Next time, don't bother to pick me up. I'll get a taxi.’

‘Right.’ I wasn't sure there was going be a next time. I went to put the key in the ignition. Dropped it. ‘My God – you've had your ears pierced!’

‘I know.’ She twisted a tiny gold stud in her ear. Guilt mingled with brazenness flooded her face.

‘But—’

‘Dad said I could. Chill, Mum, I'm fourteen. And I'm the last one in my class.’ Her eyes challenged me. ‘I had this done as well.’

She pulled up her T-shirt and a tiny gold stud winked at me from her tummy button.

‘Anna!’

She met my eyes, defiant. Suddenly I knew what she was doing. I fumbled for the keys on the floor. Started the engine.

‘I suppose Stacey's liberally pierced, is she?’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

‘Well she's seventeen, so why not? But as it happens, no.’ There was real aggression in her voice. Her face looked pinched. Older.

‘Where did you have it done?’

‘Claire's. And no, it won't go septic. I've put surgical spirit on it.’

‘Excellent news.’

Breathe, Evie. Breathe. It's hardly a tattoo. Nothing permanent. She was texting on her mobile now. Rory? Stacey? Either way, she wasn't paying attention to me. I fought for composure.

‘So how was it, oop North?’ I said with studied lightness.

She shrugged. ‘You were there.’

‘Yes, but yesterday.’

Another shrug. She put her phone back in her bag and stared out of the window.

‘Did you have fun with Stacey?’

‘Yeah, it was good.’

‘Did you go out at all? Meet her friends?’

‘No.’ She turned incredulous, you're-such-a-loser eyes on me.

‘So what did you get up to last night? What did you do?’

‘Stuff.’

‘Watch telly?’

‘A bit.’

‘Did you all have supper together?’

‘Who?’

Blood from stones. Teeth from hens. ‘You and Daddy, with Bella and Stacey.’

She swallowed. Stared out of the window. Didn't answer.

‘Anna?’

She turned back. Her eyes were bright. ‘Look, Mum, you're going to have to ask Dad about this. I promised, OK?’

I nearly crashed the car. ‘Promised what?’

Silence.

‘Promised what, Anna?’

What I could see of her fingers, which protruded from fingerless gloves and overlong cardigan sleeves, were plucking frantically at the strap of her bag. I stopped the car. Right there on the Banbury Road. The back end swung round in surprise.

‘PROMISED WHAT?’ I shrieked in her face. I'd truly lost it.

‘I can't tell you, OK?’ she shrieked back. ‘I can't!’

And with that she burst into tears, got out, slammed the door and began to run. Jesus. I got out and ran after her.

‘Anna!’ I caught up with her and seized her arm. Swung her round to face me. Gripping both her shoulders, I shook her hard. It's no excuse, but I was very frightened. She wrenched herself free, face streaming with tears.

‘Ask Dad, OK?’ she yelled in my face, her own, red and contorted. Ugly.

‘Anna, this is ridiculous,’ I breathed. People were watching. A man walking his dog on the opposite side of the road had stopped to stare somewhat censoriously. ‘Please tell me.’

Tears were filling my eyes now, and she saw it. Saw my anger was over. ‘I can't,’ she said miserably, eyes still streaming. ‘Don't make me. You'll find out. I can't.’

Every fibre in my being turned to ice. It was as if something dangerous had slipped to join us on the pavement. We