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“I just realised it… wouldn’t work,” I say, trying to sound reasonable instead of gutted. “And the longer I let it drag on, the worse it would hurt him. So I thought it was kinder to step back.”

“What you did wasn’t stepping back,” Kath says sharply. “It was disappearing off the face of the earth. Claire, you don’t just ghost people. Even if it’s only for a week.”

I know why her tone is like that. Kath was essentially ghosted for half a decade. I saw first-hand the repercussions of what ghosting can do to someone, and then I did it to another person. Guilt fills me.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know you didn’t,” she replies, voice more gentle now. “But you did.”

The napkin is a crumpled mess in my hands.

“I just… I shouldn’t have invited him,” I sigh, looking at the table instead of her face. “I hope he’s ok. I think things are easier if we all just pretend it never happened.”

“Easier for who?”

I wince, and try to work out what to say.

“Claire,” she continues, “I’m not saying you had to date him. If you realised it wasn’t right, fine. But deciding what’s best for someone else without talking to them isn’t always as kind as it feels.”

“I’m sorry.” I look directly into her brown eyes and hope she can see the sincerity in mine.

“I love you, and I love Tom. I mean, he’s my brother.” Kath shakes her head. “But what’s done is done. I’ve said my piece and I’m not interested in making you feel worse about it.”

“Thank you,” I mumble gratefully.

But despite her words I still feel awful, and part of me is already worrying about when I’ll next see Tom. Maybe I’ll get away with avoiding him until Kath’s birthday next year, which gives me a long time to work out a strategy for powering through the interaction and pretending I’m fine about it.

Kath shifts in her chair. “Let’s just move on and have a nice lunch. Tell me about work? Are you liking your new project?”

“It’s good. But Mum’s on my back about the fact that I haven’t been promoted even though I’ve been there for a few years now. So that’s not been great.”

“Claire,” Kath says carefully, “Your mum shouldn’t define whether or not you enjoy your job.”

I let out a tired laugh. “Feels like it when she rings me all the time asking about it.”

Kath raises a brow. “I think you’ve spent so long trying to avoid disappointing your mum that you don’t even know what you actually want anymore, and you’re tying yourself in knots trying to make her happy.”

The words land painfully hard.

“Is this an intervention?” I try to laugh it off. “Should I be checking the door for Sophia?”

“Claire, come on. This is serious. Please.” Kath’s eyes are filled with concern. “You’re always making your mum happy at the expense of yourself.”

“That’s not fair,” I say defensively.

“Isn’t it?” she asks. “You wanted to study art and ended up doing business and marketing because she thought it was more practical. And now you’re miserable at work but still talking about it like leaving would somehow be irresponsible.”

I stare down at my coffee. Because the worst part is that she isn’t entirely wrong.

“It’s complicated,” I mumble.

“I know it is.” She gives me an inscrutable look. “Can I ask you something?”

I already know I’m not going to like it. “Sure.”

“Why do you keep trying so hard to make her happy?”

I frown at that. “Because she’s my mum.”