My mother has three modes.
Warm, which is her default and her best. Concerned, which arrives when she suspects something is wrong and deploys itself as a series of increasingly loaded questions disguised as casual conversation. And activated, which is what three words and a full stop at nine forty five in the morning means and which is the mode that has historically preceded some of the most significant conversations of my life.
I excuse myself from Rhys's living room and step into the hallway outside his apartment.
I call her. She picks up before the first ring finishes. "Camille Marie Vann."
Full name. Gosh.
"Hi Mum."
"Do not hi Mum me," she says. "Stanley called your Aunt Patricia last night. Patricia called me this morning. Do you want to tell me what is happening w
