The last argument had been the worst, when her dad had taken her home hours late after her last weekend at his flat. Her mum had been sitting on the doorstep of their house, watching for them, and she’d run to the car as Harriet was getting out.

“You bastard, Tony, you selfish little shit,” her mother had shouted – her mother the surgeon, who was always in control, who had never raised her voice before this began. Her curly dark hair bloomed round her head as if energized by her anger; her jeans and jumper hung loosely on her too-thin frame, making her bones look as sharp as her voice. “You’re late, you don’t answer your bloody phone – does it ever occur to you that I might worry? Anything could have happened.”

Harriet stood frozen on the pavement. She’d glimpsed a movement in the open window of the flat next door and knew their neighbor was listening. In the street, a couple walking by with their dog pointedly looked away and increased their pace. She felt her face flush scarlet with embarrassment. “Mum, we only-”

“For God’s sake, Laura,” her father broke in. “We went to the bloody zoo. It was a nice day, and we stayed longer than we meant. Is that a crime?” His voice was level, tight, his face pinched.

“You were supposed to have Harriet back hours ago. You know the rules-”

“Mum, please,” said Harriet, hearing the mortifying quaver in her voice. Her throat ached, and a sharp pain seared her chest. “I’m fine, really. Can we please go in?”

Her father shot her an anguished glance. “Laura, let it go, okay? You’re upsetting Harriet-”

“I’m upsetting Harriet?” Her mother stepped back from the car, looking suddenly, dangerously, calm.