She feels butterflies in her stomach. It’s so utterly new being this real … this honest … that it makes her feel shaky.

‘I have been so driven in my quest for perfection, but the truth is … my perfect life wasn’t perfect. Far from it. I was living a lie. But now that my home has gone and I’m on my own and I’m starting all over again, I want to be honest. Because I can’t pretend that I live this glossy life when I really don’t. Because the reality is that my marriage has broken down and I’ve lost my son. And when I say lost, I mean lost. He’s really gone.’

She feels tears coming now and she tries to swallow them down.

‘And I … just … if there’s any way this gets shared and Jamie sees this, by some kind of miracle, I want him to know, I’ve tried to put it right. I’ve tried to find him, but maybe he just doesn’t want to be found. And I’ve realised that I have to accept that. That sometimes you have to accept other people and situations as they are. Even if you don’t like it.’

She squeezes her lips together and smiles. ‘So, if you’re in your home with your husband or partner, or your kids or your cat or dog, and you’re coming to my feed for inspiration, then I have to tell you this: life doesn’t have to be perfect. Making something look gorgeous doesn’t make it gorgeous. Life – real life – is messy and disordered and unfiltered and often a bit shit, but also magnificent and joyous. It can’t be snapped or defined. So, forget about striving for perfection. Do something instead. Do something that makes you happy. And on that note, I’m signing off, because I’m going for a swim in the sea.’

38

A Trip to Hampstead Pond

It’s a beautiful early May morning as Dominica arrives to pick up Helga to take her on their trip to Hampstead. Emma has insisted that she come up for a visit now everyone is allowed to mix. She should really have gone before, but Dominica has thrown herself in at the Samaritans and her dates and Emma’s have clashed until now.

She’s asked the rest of the Sea-Gals to come along too, but everyone is busy, except Helga who said she could do with a change of scene. Dominica is pleased she’s coming, not least of all because she hasn’t driven to London for a long time and she could do with the company.

Despite seeing Helga several times a week for over a year, Dominica hasn’t ever been to her home, but as she goes down the lane and knocks on the door, her shabby, ramshackle cottage makes perfect sense. There’s a purple magnolia tree, which fills her tiny front garden, and there’s a scattering of petals in the stone bird bath below it. A baby magpie washes, oblivious of Dominica’s presence.