She opened the door to the cafe and ushered Josh inside.

‘I’m a good boy too,’ he said.

‘Good boy, Josh,’ she said, absently patting his head as she scanned the sandwich shelves. She picked out four different flavours, brie and bacon for Dad, of course, and cheese and ham ‘without the icky bits’ for Josh. She took the bundle of sandwiches up to the till.

‘Hi, Jackie,’ she said, smiling as she handed over the money.

‘Hello, sweetheart. Big Amobi lunch plans?’

‘We’re assembling garden furniture and it’s getting tense,’ Pip said. ‘Need sandwiches to placate the hangry troops.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said Jackie. ‘Would you tell your mum I’ll pop by next week with my sewing machine?’

‘I shall do, thanks.’ Pip took the paper bag from her and turned back to Josh. ‘Come on then, squirt.’

They were almost at the door when Pip spotted her, sitting at a table alone, her hands cupped round a takeaway coffee. Pip hadn’t seen her in town for years; she’d presumed she was still away at university. She must be twenty-one by now, maybe twenty-two. And here she was just feet away, tracing her fingertips over the furrowed words caution hot beverage, looking more like Andie than she ever had before.

Her face was slimmer now, and she’d started dying her hair lighter, just like her sister’s had been. But hers was cut short and blunt above her shoulders where Andie’s had hung down to her waist. Yet even though the likeness was there, Becca Bell’s face did not have the composite magic of her sister’s, a girl who had looked more like a painting than a real person.

Pip knew she shouldn’t; she knew it was wrong and insensitive and all those words Mrs Morgan had used in her ‘I’m just concerned about the direction of your project’ warnings. And even though she could feel the sensible and rational parts of herself rallying in her head, she knew that a small sliver of Pip had already made the decision. That flake of recklessness inside contaminating all other thoughts.

‘Josh,’ she said, handing him the sandwich bag, ‘can you go and sit outside with Barney for a minute? I’ll be two seconds.’

He looked pleadingly up at her.

‘You can play on my phone,’ she said, digging it out of her pocket.

‘Yes,’ he said in hissed victory, taking it and scrolling straight to the page where the games were, bumping into the door on his way out.

Pip’s heart kicked up in an agitated protest. She could feel it like a turbulent clock in the base of her throat, the ticking fast-forward in huddling pairs.

‘Hi. Becca, isn’t it?’ she said, walking over and placing her hands on the back of the empty chair.

‘Yeah. Do I know you?’ Becca’s eyebrows dropped in scrutiny.

‘No, you don’t.’ She tried to don her warmest smile but it felt stretchy and tight. ‘I’m Pippa, I live in town. Just in my last year at Kilton Grammar.’

‘Oh, wait,’ Becca said, shuffling in her seat, ‘don’t tell me. You’re the girl doing a project about my sister, aren’t you?’

‘Wh-wh– ’ Pip stammered. ‘How did you know?’

‘I’m, err.’ She paused. ‘I’m kind of seeing Stanley Forbes. Kind of not.’ She shrugged.

Pip tried to hide her shock with a fake cough. ‘Oh. Nice guy.’

‘Yeah.’ Becca looked down at her coffee. ‘I just graduated and I’m doing an internship over at the Kilton Mail .’

‘Oh, cool,’ Pip said. ‘I actually want to be a journalist too. An investigative journalist.’

‘Is that why you’re doing a project about Andie?’ She went back to tracing her finger round the rim of the cup.

‘Yes,’ Pip nodded. ‘And I’m sorry for intruding and you can absolutely tell me to go away if you want. I just wondered whether you could answer some questions I have about your sister.’

Becca sat forward in her chair, her hair swinging about her neck. She coughed. ‘Um, what kind of questions?’

Far too many; they all rushed in at the same time and Pip spluttered.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Like, did you and Andie get an allowance from your parents as teenagers?’

Becca’s face scrunched in a wrinkled, bemused look. ‘Um, that’s not what I was expecting you to ask. But no, not really. They kind of just bought us stuff as and when we needed it. Why?’

‘Just . . . filling in some gaps,’ Pip said. ‘And was there ever tension between your sister and your dad?’

Becca’s eyes dropped to the floor.

‘Erm.’ Her voice cracked. She wrapped her hands round the cup and stood, the chair screaming as it scraped against the tiled floor. ‘Actually, I don’t think this is a good idea,’ she said, rubbing her nose. ‘Sorry. It’s just . . .’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ Pip said, stepping back, ‘I shouldn’t have come over.’

‘No, it’s OK,’ Becca said. ‘It’s just that things are finally settled again. Me and my mum, we’ve found our new normal and things are getting better. I don’t think dwelling on the past . . . on Andie stuff, is healthy for either of us. Especially not my mum. So, yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘You do your project if that’s what you want to do, but I’d prefer it if you left us out of it.’