Jo had been ecstatic. To the outside world, Clara looked very much like a Campbell and was often mistaken for Jo’s daughter. Both had curly red hair and startling blue eyes. Both had a silly sense of humour and could be a little too noisy at times. They had bonded instantly, despite their twenty-three-year age gap. They had bonded even more over the last two months and Jo had never once regretted her decision to come back home while her father worked away. Maureen had resisted Jo’s offer at first. Said she would manage well enough with Clara on her own. But Jo knew her mother well enough to know that while she was hale and hearty, Clara could be a handful and life would be easier for them all if Maureen had some support.

She wasn’t quite expecting to fall more and more in love with this unstoppable force of nature. But as she did, she realised it had been no sacrifice to leave her flat temporarily and spend time at home. In fact she had started to wonder how she would manage when she shared digs with Erin again and not Clara.

A sleepy-headed figure with Buttercup, her teddy, still in her arms, walked into the hall. ‘Jojo, I’m sleepy. Is it bedtime?’

‘I think it might be,’ Jo replied. ‘Hot chocolate?’

Clara nodded, before she yawned widely. Jo made a cup of hot chocolate that was mostly just warmed milk and sat at the table, while Clara recounted her day at school with such enthusiasm for the little details, it helped Jo remember how marvellous life seems when you’re young.

They brushed their teeth together – Clara making sure to show Jo what an excellent job she was doing – and just as they did every Thursday night, Jo changed into her own pyjamas and allowed Clara to climb into bed beside her. Together they read through Guess How Much I Love You until Clara’s eyes grew heavy and she started to drift off to sleep. It was only then that Jo reached for one of her notebooks, with the intention of doing some free writing while her little sister slept. The only thing was that the notebooks were just that little bit out of reach and Jo had to stretch while trying not to disturb Clara. It was, in hindsight, always destined to be a disaster.

Not only did she fail to reach the notebooks, but she also managed to fall from the bed, and landed with an unceremonious thump on the floor, her bum narrowly avoiding being impaled on the heel of one of her discarded high-heeled shoes.

The pain was real and intense, but Jo clamped her hand over her mouth while she screamed muffled expletives. When she noticed that she had also knocked over her teetering pile of notebooks and they were now lying in a haphazard bundle on the ground beside her, she swore some more.