“Just doing my homework,” he found the breath to tell his mother as she and Trudy marched along the hall.

“Why, do you have to read it to your class?” She kissed his forehead before stooping to examine his homework while Trudy looked uncertain whether to do either. Eventually his mother straightened up and blinked at his forehead as though she had a mind to take back the kiss. “Well, if that’s how you remember it, Jonathan.”

“That’s how grandma was.”

“No need to shout. We’re only here.” He was hoping she would leave it at that when she said “I’d like to be home when you come in, you know, even if I mightn’t give you snacks so close to dinner. Unfortunately I have to earn a living, particularly since my mother’s attitudes got to be too much for your father. And by the way, I don’t think you need to upset yourself over the fridge. If you can open it she could. Most of the time she wasn’t quite as feeble as she liked to pretend.”

“Go on, Esther, let it all come out.” To Jonathan Trudy said “People have different ways of grieving, and this is how your mother has to. Are you finding yours?”

“I’ve got to go upstairs now.”

“You can work better there, I expect,” his mother said. “We’ll call you when it’s dinner.”

He could tell she wanted to believe she hadn’t distressed him, while Trudy thought he was off to grieve. Neither was the case. He loaded his schoolbag and climbed into the dimness that hung around the chandelier. Even when he switched on the upstairs light, gloom seemed to cling to the landing and the corridor. He felt as if his grandmother’s disapproval had been roused: she used to say you shouldn’t have more than one light on at a time. She’d just been trying to save money for her family, he told himself. “Mum only meant she wished she could be more like you, grandma,” he muttered. “I expect that means she will be.”