‘So, black . . .’ she said, rifling through the silk and satin and lace. 

‘The bigger the better,’ said Angie, her lip curling as pair after pair of overly skimpy knickers and thongs appeared. 

Tina kept rooting and soon found a pair of HANRO Brazilian-style. ‘Oh, I love these!’ 

‘Yeah, these are good,’ said Angie, stretching the fabric. ‘They’ll work.’

Tina tutted. ‘What a shame.’

‘Mom . . .’

‘Yeah. Okay.’

They set to work, sitting on the bed. Tina unpicked the grey polyester covering the eyepatch while Angie carefully dismembered the panties.

‘This is fun,’ said Tina.

‘Cutting up my mother’s panties . . . What even is my life right now?’

She laughed, though, and Tina had to fight not to say that she wanted to know that too: what was Angie’s life right now?

‘Do you know what you’re wearing to the party?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. Shane brought me a suit from home.’

And there it was again. Within seconds Tina was watching her hands through unshed tears. Then she blinked. A tear fell and landed on her hand. Angie tensed; Tina could feel it through the bed spring.

‘Mom?’

Tina drew in a long, slow breath. ‘Oh, Angie,’ she said. She didn’t know how to even begin to explain the hurt, and there wasn’t time on this of all days, not right now.

‘What?’ said Angie, leaning forward to see her mother’s face under her hair. ‘Why are you being so weird?’

The eyepatch was done, Tina had got the fabric off. She picked up the scissors and snipped the elastic, too.

‘There.’

‘Mom.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Mama?’

Angie often used the more childish term for comic effect and it worked. Tina smiled and looked straight at her daughter, who had taken her hand.

‘Tell me,’ said Angie. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Tina reached out and caressed Angie’s face.

‘We love you so much,’ she said, her voice a little hoarse. ‘It just makes us sad that . . . That you don’t think of here as home.’

***

A little before five, the press photos began. Group shots of the Amistad board were first, with Concetta in pride of place, then came the couples. Helena was gorgeous in a sweeping maxi dress, in dove-grey washed linen, with a Western leather belt and oversize silver buckle. Dylan was like her storybook partner, in a buttery-soft tan suede fringed jacket and black jeans.