‘Naturally.I can barely escape the charity folk who go door-knocking every month.’
Issy presses her shoulder into mine.‘See?This is why I keep you around.You’re the first sacrifice in a horror film.’
‘A quick death is all I ask.’
‘Agreed.’
A group of children squeal and I scan the gym.‘Greg here?’Her face doesn’t flinch.‘He’s working late.’
‘On a Sunday?’
She shrugs.‘Quarterlies.’
‘Right.’
We both know Greg hasn’t worked a day in his life that didn’t involve beer, football or deleting his search history.Before I can push it further, Gemma yells, ‘Nanna’s here!’
And like a hungover Bond girl making a dramatic entrance, June sweeps into the gym.Designer sunglasses.Arms overloaded with sparkly gift bags.Lipstick mid-application.Hair sprayed within an inch of its life.Gemma bolts into her arms, then starts raiding the gift bags one by one, until—
‘Oh my god, Mum,’ Issy hisses.
Gemma is proudly holding up a pair of child-sized silk underwear with a matching bralette.Tiny.Lacy.Horrifying.
‘She’ssix!’Issy snaps, lunging to snatch them from her daughter.June shrugs off her fur jacket and lowers herself onto the bench seat beside us.‘So?’
‘So?’Issy echoes, scandalised.‘Do you haveanyidea how inappropriate that is?’
June rolls her eyes and pulls out a compact mirror to check her lipstick.‘Don’t be so dramatic.Every girl should have nice panties in her drawer.’
Issy glares at her.For me it’s another day, same old June.Only now, Issy’s getting the raw, unfiltered version I used to act as buffer for throughout her whole childhood.
‘How’ve you been, Mum?’I ask, mostly to redirect the conversation.
‘Sandra said I don’t have a job at the gallery anymore.Can you believe that?’She scowls, as if being let go from an unpaid volunteer gig never happens.
‘What for?’
‘She said she doesn’tneedmy help.’June scoffs.‘She’s threatened by me.’
Issy and I exchange a silent, exhausted look.
‘She’s jealous because her marriage is crumbling, and she thinks it’s my fault.’
‘Mum.’
June waves Issy away, pulling out a lip liner.‘I don’t need her shitty gallery anyway.’
I try again.‘I saw Gloria at Ella’s baby shower a few months ago.She told me you started going to AA.’
June rolls her eyes.‘Gloria needs to keep her bloody mouth shut.’
‘She’s trying to look out for you.’
June laughs – dry, brittle, wine-wrecked.‘Please.That woman’s only ever looked out for herself.’
I try to let it go.No use paddling against a rip.‘Still,’ I say gently.‘It’s a good step.I’m proud of you.’
Before she can shoot that down, Billie appears – red curls bouncing – and flings herself into June’s lap.
