Iain’s face morphed into her head like an image emerging onto photographic paper. The apologetic furrow of his brow, the narrow edges of his eyes, the pinched corners of his mouth as he’d told her he was leaving: I just can’t handle it, Jess. I can’t handle your moods and your insecurities and the sheer bloody unpredictability of living with you. One minute you’re needy and affectionate, the next you’re blocking me out as if you don’t want me anywhere near you. It’s like there’s a part of you that’s permanently shut away, under lock and key, and you won’t let anyone get close. It’s impossible, Jess. Life with you is impossible. You don’t want a partner. You don’t want an equal. You want someone to take care of you when you feel vulnerable and someone to lash out at when you don’t. Well, I can’t handle it anymore. I just can’t do it.

Even now, all these years later, the memory of Iain’s criticisms pained her, although Jess was never sure whether that was because they were unfair or because she feared they might be true.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard—please don’t think I don’t understand how you feel—but it’s not forever. Don’t jeopardize everything you’ve worked so hard for at the eleventh hour for the sake of a hobby. You’ll thank me for it in the long run, trust me.”

“But if Dad can see it’s a good idea, why can’t you?”

“Because your father hasn’t been raising you single-handedly since you were one, that’s why. Perhaps if he had, he might have earned a say in what you do with your life.”

The second the words spilled out, Jess wished she could scoop them back in. “I’m sorry, Mia, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m just tired, that’s all. And I don’t think it’s helpful your dad giving advice when he doesn’t understand how much pressure you’re under. So, please, can we just agree that another art class is something you can do later, but that right now you just need to focus on your A-levels?”

Mia was silent and Jess took a moment to wrap a conciliatory tone around her voice. “Mia? Can we agree on that, please? Promise you’ll get your head down on your school work?”

“Fine. But if I’m going to finish this essay tonight I need to get off the phone. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“OK, sweetheart. We shouldn’t be too long. I love you.”

“Yep, love you too.”

The phone went dead as the passenger door opened and Jess watched her mum lower herself into the car. There was something slow and painstaking in her movements as if the manipulation of every muscle, tendon, and bone had to be silently negotiated.

“Sorry I took so long. All OK with the car?”

Jess nodded, noticing how her mum’s knees protruded under the thin material of her trousers, how dark rings hung under her eyes. She saw her mum every day, yet somehow hadn’t noticed how much she had changed physically over the past few weeks. But now that she had, it was as though a future Jess wasn’t yet ready to greet was hurrying toward her and there was nothing she could do to slow it down. “Yes, all fine. So the audition went well, I’m guessing.”