Give him credit, Roy did have the grace to look sheepish at that. ‘I’m not sulking, I’m just . . .’ he began, then sighed. ‘I’m just sad. But you’re right – this is good news.’ He wiped his eyes again and put his glasses back on. ‘So. Now we need to find him.’

Chapter Thirty

Maggie zoomed down the road, singing along to the radio, and felt joy swelling inside her chest as the miles between her and Amelia ticked down and down. Her voice wobbled with sudden emotion as the melody reached a higher pitch and she had to break off, rolling her eyes at herself. Goodness! What had happened to her on this holiday? She seemed to have shed a restrictive cocoon that had always kept her in check, emerging as a far more carefree butterfly. Someone with a swishy new haircut who sang loudly in the car and became choked up with unexpected sentiment at a deeply uncool soft-rock ballad in fact. Someone who, just the evening before, had dared to ask a man out on a date and became alarmingly fizzy and giddy about the pleased Great idea! text that had come in reply.

‘Go, Maggie!’ Em and Olivia had cheered her last night and she’d felt positively buoyant with good cheer, as if she might very well float on up into the warm night sky. It was funny how, at the start of the week, she’d felt so old and frumpy compared to fun, impulsive Em, and yet now, with her new hairdo and mindset, she felt younger again. Energized. Ready to take on the world, as Suzanne the hairdresser had said.

What a peculiar holiday this had been so far. In the first few days it seemed as if she had lost her daughter, but by dealing with that, she appeared to have regained her own self. Her past had caught her off-guard, yet had also pushed her into a bolder new future. Yes, she would try dating again. Yes, she would be more open to new invitations and experiences. She would allow her world to expand, make sure there was room for friends and hobbies and possibilities, rather than focusing her spotlight solely on Amelia, shrinking her life down to its small, safe bubble.

Talking of whom, Maggie had been thrilled to get Amelia’s call that morning as she sat there in the kitchen, trying to get rid of her hangover with an enormous fry-up and approximately twenty gallons of tea. ‘You want to come back early?’ she’d echoed in surprise. ‘How come? Is everything okay?’ Has he not treated you well? I will kill him, if so, I swear to God, I will.