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‘Granny was right.’
    Mary was ostentatiously clattering around in the kitchen. Her heels echoed on the bare floor. Amy was aware once again of the emptiness of the flat. Of the emptiness of Mary’s life now she was taking Josh out of it.
    ‘So, this is it.’ Mary finished what she was doing and came and stood, stiffly and formally, holding out her hand. As if they meant no more to each other than polite strangers. As if they hadn’t shared all that grief, all that heartache.
    ‘Yes.’ Amy swallowed. She wanted to give Mary a long hug, but the negative vibes that were bristling off Jamie’s mother gave her little choice.
    ‘Josh, come and say goodbye to the flat.’
    Josh ran in and out of the bedrooms, the small lounge and the tiny kitchen diner.
    ‘Goodbye-goodbye-goodbye,’ he called, not appreciating the enormity of what he was saying before descending once more into aeroplane territory.
    ‘Josh, do be quiet!’ Mary snapped.
    Unused to Mary telling him off, Josh stopped short and his little face puckered up with tears.
    ‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Amy couldn’t help but rise to her son’s defence.
    ‘He needed to be told,’ said Mary. ‘You’re too soft on him.’
    ‘And you’re being too hard.’ Amy regretted the comment as soon as it was out. Mary was a doting granny, and without her Amy wouldn’t have coped over the last two years.
    ‘I see,’ said Mary. ‘I was too hard all the times I cuddled him while he cried when you went out to work. I was too hard the times I took him to the doctor when you couldn’t. I’m not the one taking him away from everything he knows and loves. I wouldn’t say I was the hard one, would you?’
    Amy looked at Mary aghast. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said shakily.
    Mary shrugged her shoulders and turned to give Josh a cuddle. Josh had stopped crying now and started being an aeroplane again. Oh to have the resilience of a child, thought Amy in silent dismay. She couldn’t leave Mary like this. For Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t. A sudden memory of Jamie laughing at her one day when she had been fuming about his mother’s interference took her breath away.
    ‘Come on, Ames,’ he had said. ‘She means well. And we’re all she’s got. Give her a break.’
    Jamie would never have wanted this.
    ‘Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Please don’t let’s fall out.’
    Mary said nothing and looked away. If Amy hadn’t known better she could have sworn that a tear trickled down Mary’s face. But Amy had never seen Mary cry. Not even at Jamie’s funeral. She was the strong silent type – whatever crying she may have done over her son, she had done it alone.
    ‘Please, Mary,’ said Amy. ‘For Jamie’s sake. And Josh’s. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let’s spoil it.’
    Mary turned around, her eyes glittering bright, her back ramrod-straight, and for the first time Amy caught a fleeting glimpse of the emotion she was struggling to contain.
    ‘Apology accepted,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now, I think it’s time you were both going.’
    She shooed them out of the flat into the car as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened.
    ‘You will visit, won’t you?’ Amy said.
    ‘Of course,’ Mary replied, but there was a wariness about her. Amy doubted very much if she would come anytime soon.
    ‘Damn.’ Amy hunted around for her handbag.
    ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘I think I’ve left my handbag inside. Can you just keep an eye on Josh while I go and get it?’
    She ran up the path, and opened the front door to the flat. She was eager to get off now. Hanging around was only prolonging the agony. She raced into the flat and found her bag on the kitchen worktop where she had left it. Then she paused and looked around her.
    Memories crowded in. Of her and Jamie putting thenew kitchen in together; of Jamie coming home with a huge bouquet of flowers the day she told him she was pregnant; the strangeness of leaving the flat