“Don’t rough house with your brother!” her mother called across the room, causing both Jane and her father to turn and roll their eyes at her.

“Happy birthday princess.” Frank said, kissing Jane softly on her forehead. “Sorry about this.” It was clear from his tone that he had also been nagged into submission by his wife. “I didn’t want to do something like this but your mother insisted.”

“Jane!” Angela called, interrupting their conversation.

“Yes Ma?” All Jane really wanted to do was curl up with her Chinese and a glass of wine and relax. It seemed that, despite the hour, her mother had other ideas.

“Is that what you’re going to wear at your party?” She looked her daughter up and down disapprovingly. “Why don’t you go and change into something pretty?”

“But Ma….”

Maura grabbed Jane’s hand. “Come on, I’ll help you.” She said, pulling her friend into the bedroom.

“I’m not getting changed!” Jane protested as Maura closed the bedroom door behind them.

“What? Oh no, that would be completely ridiculous.” Maura agreed. “I just, well, it’s not that I don’t….”

“You needed to get away from my mother!” Jane laughed as she fell onto her bed, sighing heavily.

“Yes.” Maura agreed, sliding onto the bed next to Jane. “I believe she may have acute logorrhoea.”

Jane rolled on her side, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You think my mom has a cute what??” She asked, clearly incredulous that her friend found anything about her mother ‘cute’

“Not cute, acute. Logorrhoea.” Maura clarified gently. “It’s a psychological condition where the sufferer talks too much, often incoherently.”

Jane burst into laughter, the action causing the bed to shake noticeably beneath the pair. From the other room, both women could hear Angela still wondering aloud why it was her daughter couldn’t dress nicely for her birthday celebrations and their laughter was only fuelled when they heard her send Frankie in to ‘check up on them’.

Frankie knocked on the door and paused; he could hear the headboard of the bed knocking on the wall and stopped, staring incredulously at the solid door before taking a few flustered steps backwards.

“Frankie??” Angela called out to her son, but her voice was clearer and she had obviously joined him in the hallway. “What’s the matter?”