The loaves have perfumed the whole house by the time they emerge from the oven. I set them on cooling racks, feeling like a sculptor with a new work on display. Awash in good will, I can't wait till my mother gets home. I want to tell her the worst is over. That I know I've been a pain in the ass, but I'm going to make it. It will take time, of course, but the healing has begun. I'll thank her for her patience and support, tell her I realise it's time for me to be getting my own place, looking for a job, making a life for myself. The phone interrupts my enraptured gushing. My stomach balls up.