She nods her understanding, her part of the mix done and sifted and waiting in a bowl while Effy goes about finding a pan, as well as whatever materials she may need to grease it. Marshall is the baker in that family; Effy can't help think that it's good that they have one of those, if nothing else. The Stonems were never big on baking, or in fact any sort of activity that might have brought all four of them together. They would have dinner together, sometimes, back before Tony's accident, and back before her mum started needing an escape away from the tension at home. But dinner was an obligation. An anchor.

Not really something to help pass the time enjoyably or meaningfully.

She nods, though, because Tony was the same way. Had his things, any number of activities that he excelled at. Effy has none of them.

There's a cupboard in the kitchen where she used to store spliff, figured that the kitchen was an easy place to score a light if she ran out otherwise. Curiously, she peeks in it again; it's still there in dried leaves, each one curling into itself. Effy presses her lips tightly together at the sight.