‘Calm down.’ Sophie reached out to touch her daughter but Andi slapped her hand away, then kicked out at her.

‘Selfish – fat – bitch! Why are you still alive and Dad dead? It’s not fair.’ She suddenly started belabouring her mother and kicking her.

Sophie was so taken aback it was a minute or two before she responded, then she fought back, shoving Andi away so hard she bounced against the wall. After she’d opened the door, she had to wrestle her daughter outside, then slammed the door on her and locked it.

Panting, rubbing her calf, which felt bruised, she watched over the security system as Andi stood there, yelling and cursing for a few moments, then stamped off down the drive.

If anyone was still out there watching, they’d have enjoyed that.

Oh, hell, were they there? Had anyone taken photos? Would they stop Andi and get her side of the story?

But no one stepped out of the shadows near the gate as Andi stopped to make a rude sign at the house. No engine revved up in the street as she started walking down it into the evening shadows.

As Sophie went back into the kitchen, reaction set in and she began to tremble. She stumbled across to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, weeping. Her daughter had been like a madwoman tonight. She’d suspected before that Andi was taking drugs; now she was certain of it. Her daughter had always had a sunny, optimistic nature but that had been changing for a while now. Tonight she’d been virulent, her eyes staring, her skin blotchy.

Like a stranger. A violent stranger. A stranger who hated her.

When she’d finished weeping, Sophie made herself a cup of hot chocolate, trying to think what to do as she waited for the kettle to boil. But what could you do when someone was legally an adult and had the right to go to hell in her own fashion?

Should she give her daughter the money she clearly craved? No way. Everything in Sophie revolted at the thought of pouring down a bottomless drain the money she’d worked so hard for. She’d been brought up with the so-called Protestant work ethic, but she’d clearly failed to pass that on to Andi. The poor girl had never come to terms with the loss of her father. Well, Sophie missed him too. But life was like that. It kept chucking things at you. She knew that better than anyone.

She wished she could think how to put things right, how to help her daughter. She couldn’t, hadn’t the faintest idea what to do, where to start. That made her feel so sad.

Picking up the mug, she went to sit in her living room and put on a CD. She didn’t look as she switched on the player, which was already loaded with a few favourites. Of course the first track was ‘Tears May Fall’. She sat with her eyes closed, letting the music carry her away, thinking of Jez now and how much she’d liked him.