The cab takes a left towards my flat. Cars line the road and a few streetlights lead the way. ‘Thanks for seeing me home.’ I reach into my bag for my door keys.

‘You’re welcome, Ward Sister Davies. Congratulations again. With the exception of your ex-boyfriend’s arrival, I had a good night.’

Part of me wants to say me too. A bigger part stops me.

As I shut the cab door, Mark moves to sit where I had been and leans forward to give the cabby an instruction. I wave, turn, and let myself into the darkness of my empty flat.

And now I don’t have to pretend this doesn’t hurt anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Five

RHYS

So, this is it. The big reveal. The introduction. How many more ways can I try and dress up the horror that is meeting my mum’s new… Well, anyway. Having tried to drown out my inner monologue, the one screaming at me not to do this, I showered, dressed and came out to meet her. Them. When I arrived at the wine bar, Mum came up and hugged me so tight I thought she might faint from the effort. She asked me if I was okay, after what we’d talked about. I wanted to turn the clock back, take away the new thing she had to worry about. My birth mother. I wish I’d never told her.

Derek ordered Prosecco and three glasses. Mum apologised as she led me over, said it was fine if I wasn’t in the mood to drink it. I drank it in any case. To say we enjoyed the fizz and chat is an oversell, but we tried and Mum seemed happy we were finally all there together.

Now we are in the restaurant, watching intently as our waiter deftly shreds the duck he’s just brought to the table, his face hard in concentration as he preps and presents our crispy starter. Derek and I have exhausted safe discussion topics about the weather and the state of the Sheffield ring road, and tension is pushing its way into our happy little threesome now. Mum, all the while, is trying to manage it.

‘We love the Zing Vaa, don’t we, Derek,’ she says, nerves present in the wobble of her hand as she fills glasses with bottled tap water.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Me too.’

I bite my tongue so as not to remind her that me and David used to come here every few weeks for an early tea after work. I try to forget about the times Michelle joined us. How we’d all sit and chat and laugh and, for the sake of my brother, I’d ensure any feelings I had for her were buried. ‘I remember the first time I tasted Chinese,’ I say, layering cucumber on top of duck and plum sauce. ‘Mum’s cooking is great—’

‘Ooh, it is,’ Derek interrupts. ‘Hearty.’

My eyes flick up to him, then her, wondering how often she’s made him these home-cooked, hearty meals. I carry on. ‘Yes, but there was something in the sweetness of that first lemon chicken I ever had. It awakened taste buds my thirteen-year-old mouth didn’t know I had.’ The thought of its sticky-sweet deliciousness makes the back of my tongue clack, in a good way. Derek nods. Mum smiles, proudly. I occupy my mouth with a duck roll.