‘Most of them don’t right now. That’s why they’re improving their literary skills. Anyway, I’ll let you get on. I really hope you’ll be able to come to the party. I thought I might introduce you to my mum and aunty. They run a craft shop in Sherwood, and would probably do a great deal on some giant cushions for the children to sit on. Maybe some brightly coloured curtains, too.’

‘I’m not sure what the colour of curtains has to do with children’s literature.’

‘Ask my aunty; she’ll be happy to explain how a warm and welcoming environment can help open our minds to learning. Oh – and feel free to bring Veronica.’

‘It’s Veronica Fluff,’ she snapped, just as the door swung shut behind me.

As I arrived back home, looking forward to swapping my humidity-crumpled work dress for a vest top and shorts, my phone beeped with a message. Glancing at the screen as I dumped my bag on the kitchen table, my bloodstream screeched to an emergency stop.

My mother.

I’d been waiting all week for this. Holding my breath every time I checked my phone. Frequently thinking I heard a ping only to find I’d imagined it.

The message was brief:

How many cushions do you need?

I sent back an equally short reply, debating whether to include a picture of the invitation providing the time and place for the party, but deciding against it in case this was all a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security until she had my address. I then called Aunty Linda to confirm that Mum wouldn’t be at the Buttonhole that Sunday, but my aunty would, and I’d be very welcome to pop in for a chat/rant/therapeutic cry.

Mum wasn’t the only reason I’d been checking my phone obsessively. It had also been a whole week since I’d run away from the opportunity to kiss Sam in my garden, and it was both impressive and pathetic how often I’d managed to dwell on that evening, considering everything else that was going on.

Steph had patiently listened while I’d explained every second in great detail, before insisting that all it took to ensure things weren’t going to be awkward was a quick message to clear the air.