The warden pulled a small digital camera from his pocket, turned it on, and revealed a photograph of Jess’s car. “See the time there, in the bottom left-hand corner? What does that say? Twenty-one thirteen. And what time is it now? Twenty-one nineteen. By my calculation that’s six minutes.”

He jabbed a finger one last time at his machine and it whirred into life, a ticket rolling out of the top. He held it toward Jess, eyebrows raised as if daring her to challenge him.

“Really? You really want to give me a ticket? For God’s sake, you people. How do you sleep at night?” She snatched the piece of paper from his hand and got into the car, slamming the door behind her before he had a chance to respond. She watched as he sauntered off down the street, glancing at each windshield he passed.

Her eyes skimmed over the ticket to assess the damage. Forty pounds. Or double that if she failed to pay within fourteen days.

Jess did a quick mental calculation. Her tax was due but she had the money set aside for that. Mia needed fifty pounds for a school theater trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, and the shower in the bathroom still needed fixing three months after it had been reduced to a light drizzle. And she was still paying off her credit card for the laptop she’d bought Mia for her birthday in January. Where another forty pounds would come from she had no idea.

Folding the ticket in two, she shoved it into the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t face the awkward tussle that would ensue if her mum saw it: her mum would insist on paying it and Jess would refuse, both knowing that Jess couldn’t afford it but that she would rather forgo breakfast and lunch for a month than accept charity. There’d been enough contention about money when her mum had agreed to move in. She’d wanted to contribute toward food, bills, and even the mortgage but Jess had refused. She’d told her then what she’d said repeatedly over the years: she had no intention of accepting handouts. Ever since Iain had walked out, just before Mia’s first birthday, offering only minimal contributions since, Jess had supported herself and Mia. She hadn’t been prepared to forgo her independence just because her mum was moving in with them.

Her phone bleeped and she retrieved it from her bag to find a message from Mia.

Are you nearly home? I was about to make some hot chocolate and I’ll do some for you and Granny if you’ll be back soon?

Jess checked the time. It was almost nine thirty. She’d left the house before it was light and hadn’t seen Mia for almost twenty-four hours. She dialed Mia’s number, picking at the skin around her thumbnail as she waited for an answer.

“Hi, Mum. Where are you?”

“Just collecting Granny from her choir audition. Is everything OK?”

“Yes. I just wondered when you were going to be home.”