“I’ve just popped in to change out of my uniform,” Jasmine explained, giving her a hug. “Are you OK? You looked miles away when I came in.”

Marcy forced a smile. “I was, but I’m fine. Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m cool, thanks. Where’s Mum?”

“She went to buy some wiring for a lamp she’s making, but she texted just now to say she was popping into the post office to pick up a form for your provisional driver’s license.”

Jasmine’s eyes lit up. “Awesomazing,” she cheered joyfully. “Not only about the license, but that she’s actually gone somewhere apart from the beach.” Sobering slightly, she added, “Poor Mum. It’s all been so hard for her, hasn’t it, and not even knowing he’s gone to prison for two years seems to have cheered her up.”

“Because he could be out in as little as eighteen months,” Marcy reminded her. “But don’t let’s talk about him. Have you booked your first driving lesson yet? You know I’m paying for a course of six as your birthday present.”

“You are the best, and I will, but my birthday’s not for weeks, so what’s the hurry? Oh, I know, you guys want me to be the chauffeur so you can have a drink when you go out.”

“Guilty,” Marcy replied wryly. In truth they were so close to everything that they could walk, unless they were after a major supermarket shop or a browse around the factory outlets over in Somerset. “The instructors get pretty booked up,” she cautioned, “so you should look into it soon. Did you ask your friends for some recommendations?”

“Actually, I did, and apparently there’s a woman who lives out in one of the villages who gets everyone through first time, so I’ll give her a try. Now I need to get changed fast. I don’t want to be late for my lesson.”

Remembering she was seeing Anton, her violin coach, today, Marcy watched her bound off to her room and all over again she felt glad, happy to see how well she was settling into this comparatively parochial world. That alone made the change, the sacrifice, worthwhile.