And she was, actually. Izzy could see it scattered on the sideboard by the telly.
“Sorry.”
They sipped their coffees. That, too, tasted like home. Douwe Egberts instant, farm milk, and sugar. She could use the car to do a proper big shop for Mum, she realised. She could maybe go and get Mum something from Asda, a new cardi or even pyjamas or socks or something. Fresh flowers for the kitchen. Stock up on food for Rocco.
Maybe. Maybe she could take Mum out for a drive to the coast.
“It’s fine,” Mum sighed.
+
Later, Izzy took her holdall into her room. She flung aside the curtains, slid open the window. Thank f**k, fresh air. Turned around, hands on hips, and surveyed her old domain. The wallpaper was a bit yellow around the edges, and lighter where her posters had been—nothing new ther
