When we get back home, we search in the dark for a parking space. As soon as Mum has finished straightening up the car, I jump out. I open the front door. Scout starts barking and rushes out of the kitchen to greet us, her massive tail crashing into my legs. I sit on the mat and pull her onto my lap as Nonno and Mum step around me and head into the kitchen. There’s post on the mat, underneath Scout. I pull out a scary-looking brown envelope with my name on. I push Scout off my lap, brush black and white dog hair off me, and walk into the kitchen, her damp nose pressed against the back of my calf, giving me a thorough sniffing. I put the brown envelope on the table.

‘What’s that? Aren’t you going to open it?’ Mum says, pouring herself a glass of red wine. She doesn’t offer Nonno one.

‘My results.’

Nonno switches on the coffee machine and holds an espresso cup out to me in question. I shake my head. I probably could risk a coffee but I’m not going to. The doctor told me if I can live without caffeine and avoid alcohol the tablets will work better. Whatever it takes.

I tear it open. I look at the first page, then the second, and then all the other sheets, taking in each result. Mum puts down her wine.

‘So, how did you do?’ she asks.

‘Not good.’

‘Put us out of our misery?’ she pleads. ‘It’s been a very long night already.’ She looks pointedly at Nonno. ‘The last thing you should be having at this hour is an espresso,’ she tells him. He ignores her.

‘A* for Music, A for French, B for English Lit, C for English Lang, C for Maths, double C for Science, D for Humanities, an E for Tech. And a B for Drama.’ I look up to see her rearrange her face. She looks strangely relieved.

‘But that’s brilliant. You’ve done brilliantly!’ She grabs me and kisses me, hugs me then kisses me again, holding my face in her hands. I pull away and she looks hurt.

‘Mum, they’re rubbish results, all over the place!’ My voice comes out squashed. ‘I was predicted A*s and Bs not Ds and Es. I got a B for Drama! A pathetic B, for God’s sake!’ I shout.

‘I know you were expecting an A and…’

‘I was predicted an A*.’

‘An A* then. At least you got one for Music, that’s brilliant and…’

‘I can’t believe you’re using words like brilliant!’

‘You know, just because I don’t agree with your grandfather and this ridiculous RSC trip on your secret day out to Stratford, it does not make me a bad person!’ she snaps. ‘I am not the enemy here. I never told you you’d get an A*.’

‘I didn’t say you did. And who said anything about Stratford or the RSC? I wasn’t even talking about acting.’

‘For once,’ Mum murmurs, but I hear her.

‘God, I just wish…’ I stop myself.

‘No, do go on, what do you wish, Hope?’ She picks up her wine to take a sip.

‘Just that you’d be a bit more like Nonno, and do stuff, help me make decisions and come up with choices,’ I say, knowing she’s not going to want to hear it. Before she can respond Nonno comes back into the room.

‘Scusa, I bought this when you were born, piccolina. Is it a good time to open it now?’ he says, before kissing me on both cheeks. Mum shrugs. ‘A peace offering, Erin? It is time to celebrate the good that has happened?’ he suggests.

‘Really? Alcohol, Gianni?’ Mum reprimands, before she snatches three champagne flutes from the wedding cupboard that’s only opened on very special occasions. She slams them down on the little table so hard I’m surprised they don’t shatter.

I panic. This is not a special occasion and I don’t want the champagne Nonno is pouring out shakily into the glasses. One glass might wreck my medication. How am I going to say no to Nonno’s special champagne? I can’t think of a good reason. The champagne spills over. Mum tuts then mops it up. Nonno hands out the glasses and opens his mouth to make a speech, to toast me and say things about me that just aren’t true. I have to stop him.

‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. I haven’t done anything worth all this, have I, Mum? You’ve made that clear. You think I’m a complete failure, don’t you, Mum? Just a fucking failure!’ The panic rises up and fizzes out of me.

‘That is it! I have had enough. You do not get to speak to me like that. I don’t deserve it. Go to your room!’ she spits.

Nonno winces.

‘Are you serious?’ I say half-laughing.

‘Go! she shouts. ‘Just get out!’ She can’t stand the sight of me right now.

I do as she says, glad of a reason to leave the room, the brown envelope and her.