An hour later, we are all still sat around the dining table as my mum interrogates me about Aileen.
"Have you seen your sister lately?"
"No mum," I frown as I consider my reply, "I told you, I haven't seen her since the last time we were here."
"It's just," my Mother presses, "you girls used to be so close."
"Yes, but things change."
Aileen and I hadn't been close in years. She pushed me out when she started rebelling against our parents.
"She used to tell you everything," Grandma says, shaking her head sadly.
"When she was ten," I retort bitterly. I shouldn't. It's not her fault.
"Yes, we have to allow Aileen her secrets." Mum laughs.
It's not a pleasant laugh. It's not even a happy, genuine laugh. No, it's cruel and cold. My mother has a drink in her hand, and I wonder if
