‘I can always buy them in bulk,’ I replied. I’d expected listing Patrick’s positive attributes to be an easier task but it wasn’t coming as quickly as I’d expected. I couldn’t in all honesty call him kind, even though he wasn’t mean. He wasn’t exactly generous in nature, even though he had his moments. And he could be as hot as the seventh circle of hell but he definitely wasn’t warm.

‘Does he make you happy?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied immediately.

‘Happy when you’re with him, not happy that he’s with you,’ she corrected carefully.

‘He does make me happy,’ I said, looking for the truth. There was no point lying now. ‘Only it feels so different to before. I get frustrated and anxious. I’m not always sure he’s listening to me. To be honest, things aren’t going exactly the way I thought they would.’

‘Things rarely do,’ she said, delivering sage wisdom with a light touch, in that way only mums seemed to know how. ‘But you’ll know what to do when you know what to do.’

‘That does not feel helpful,’ I smiled, my bag of almonds slipping out of my fingers and falling into my lap. I watched the candy-coloured nuts spill onto the hardwood floor before rolling away into adventure under the settee.

Mum shrugged and combed my hair back off my face, holding my eyes with a smile of her own. ‘You’ll work it out, Ros, no one else can do it for you. I know you’ll sort it out, you always do.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I said, chewing on my bottom lip to stop my eyes from welling up. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her and not just while I was in America. Ever since Jo came along when I was fourteen, I couldn’t remember us spending any real one-on-one time together. ‘I should go and get some work done. Big week coming up.’

She gave a nod and set back to work on the sugared almonds. ‘Make sure you’re getting enough rest. You’re working every hour god sends at the moment. I see that light on all night.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘And for the record, the first thing I tell anyone about you is what a snazzy dresser you are.’

‘Get on back to your shed,’ she clucked, cracking the back of my legs as I scrambled to my feet, laughing. ‘Let’s wait and see the state of you when you’re sixty.’

‘If I make it to sixty …’ I muttered, making a hasty exit via the kitchen and the biscuit barrel. There was too much to think about: Patrick, John, Lucy and the baby, and on top of that, work? Thank god everything made more sense with a Hobnob.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

‘Ros!’