and drop them into the teapot.
‘I’m afraid,’ Chrissie said, ‘we can’t stay here.’
‘I know.’
‘And I don’t want to buy anything just now.’
‘I know,’ Amy said, ‘I know al this. You’ve said so. We al know we can’t stay here, we’ve known for ages.’
‘I’m finding it hard, deciding—’
The kettle gave a smal scream as it came to the boil, and switched itself off.
‘Where’s the flat?’
‘Almost in the Vil age. Up by the school.’
‘Cool—’
‘It’s a flat, Amy. A rented flat. The rooms are smal and everything feels very thin and fragile. It’s the top two floors of a house. You can see practical y to the sea.’
Amy poured water on top of the tea bags.
‘Did you take it?’
‘Course not,’ Chrissie said. She sounded faintly shocked. ‘I wouldn’t take it without you seeing it. You and Dil y.’
Amy opened her mouth to say, ‘We’l be fine, we won’t be there much anyway,’ and thought better of it. Instead, she said, ‘Did you like it?’
‘Darling, at the moment, I don’t know
Amy carried the teapot across to the table. Maybe the flowers were beginning to look a shade more energized by their sugar. She said, ‘Sit down.’
‘Thank you, darling.’
‘Is it cheap?’
‘Is what cheap?’
‘The flat.’
‘Not particularly,’ Chrissie said, ‘but if we sel this even halfway reasonably, that’l help.’
‘Good, then.’
Chrissie looked at her. She was pouring tea. She had left her hair loose, and it had swung round her face, obscuring it.
‘Aren’t you interested?’ Chrissie said.
Amy hooked one side of her hair behind an ear.
‘Kind of.’
‘Don’t you care where we live? Doesn’t your home matter to you?’
‘Course—’
‘It doesn’t,’ Chrissie said, ‘sound much like it.’
‘If you’re OK with where we live,’ Amy said, ‘I’l be OK. So wil Dil .’
‘I’m not sure I can choose alone—’
‘Why not?’ Amy said. ‘You always have.’
‘Ouch—’
‘Wel , you have. You said, and then Dad and us did it.’
Chrissie picked up the milk jug.
‘Maybe,’ she said careful y, ‘I’m trying not to be so bossy.’
Amy pushed a mug towards her.
‘Does that mean we al get a bit of say-so?’
‘Wel , I’d like you to have an opinion about this flat—’
‘I mean, about more than the flat. About what we want ourselves and stuff—’
‘I – wel , I suppose so.’
‘Good,’ Amy said with emphasis.
Chrissie looked sharply at her.
‘What is al this about? What are you asking?’
Amy bent over her tea mug, cradling it between her palms.
‘Wel , I’m not exactly
