I dress quickly the day after Boxing Day. I had planned on leaving the night before but my mum had convinced me to stay. She had looked at me with sad, tired eyes and I'd relented even though I knew it meant adding an hour to my commute.

Once dressed, I make my way to the kitchen; I need caffeine. My mother is already up. She's wearing a dressing gown and her hair is tied back.

"Ah darling, can I get you something for breakfast?"

I try to say no, but it's useless. I ...