Everything was still tidy from her massive session after Jake’s tangi, so there wasn’t much point, but I did it anyway. I dusted every china doll on the mantelpiece, polished all the wedding silver, vacuumed, and ironed, all of which was even less fun with one good hand. Mum came home every lunch and dinner break to check on me and called the home phone at random times during the day. The message that she didn’t trust me couldn’t have been any clearer. I tried to be a good daughter and not complain about it too much. I remembered the horrible things they had said, that I was an awful daughter who should have died instead. Or had I said that? It was hard to remember. Thinking about the fight, or the other people in it, made me feel sick and small. And getting everything in the entire house to Mum’s ridiculous hotel standards of cleanliness gave me far too much time to think. I was able to give the others plans at first, going over them again and again, because I couldn’t trust either of them to do it right the first time.
