And then the door opened, before the mysterious figure had even knocked, and she saw Joe’s face illuminated by the yellowy porch light, and the look of happiness reflected there as he opened his arms and welcomed his visitor inside.

It had been several days since Prue had fired up her laptop and checked her emails. She hovered over one from her boss before opening it, dreading being pulled back, before she was ready, into the day-to-day banality of her job at the paper. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was just a nice, friendly message checking that she was okay and confirming her return date. He had even signed it off with a kiss. She had always got on well with Fred, who had known her dad for ages and treated her like a surrogate daughter. If she was going to do this, she knew he would support her and wish her well, despite his constant assurances that there was no better photographer for miles around and the paper couldn’t do without her. It was doing without her now though, wasn’t it? And if it could manage for a month, it could manage for longer. Maybe even for ever.

She minimised her email screen and opened up Google. She had started looking at courses on her last day in London, before she’d had to dash home for Flo and the whole thing had been left on hold. The sheer volume of information had overwhelmed her, and scared her too, if she was honest about it. Now it was time to start researching in earnest. Yes, she was a good basic photographer. She knew the mechanics, she had a good eye, and some of her images had been really quite outstanding, or so people were always telling her. Good enough to frame and mount on walls, from her own hallway to the vets’ surgery and even the pub. But Shelling was hardly a gallery to the world, was it? And there was still so much she could learn.

It was the end of March now. Would all the best places for September starts have been snapped up already? There was just so much to look into, so much to consider. Then there was where to choose. London was definitely calling to her. She had tasted life there now, and wanted more of it, but staying as local as possible would allow her to stay living at home. Still, where was the adventure in that? She should be going wherever the best courses took her, striking out on her own, like any new student, applying for grants, living in halls. There would be fees and living expenses, and the bills for the cottage still coming in, whether she was living in it or not. And how did any of the financial side of studying work when she was twenty-four and had been earning her own money, not eighteen and still dependent on her parents as most students were?

Only one way to find out. Prue took a deep breath and ploughed in, typing the words Photography courses into the search bar again. There were pages and pages of them.