I shut the car door and am about to lead the way when she walks straight into the house.

‘Ah, love, you’re here,’ says Dad, walking over and kissing Julie on the cheek and taking her by the hand. My legs feel unsteady by the sight and I cling on to the breakfast bar. ‘I’ve been waiting to introduce the two special women in my life to each other and it looks like you’ve done it yourselves.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve wasted no time,’ says Julie.

Dad beams at her before looking back at me, and I try hard to match his enthusiastic smile. He gives me a little head bob as if I’ve given him approval and then he turns to introduce her to Miles and the three of them start chatting. I can’t let go of the breakfast bar. Dad’s dated other women since Mum died and I’ve met a couple of them, but this is different. This reminds me of how he used to look at Mum.

‘Edie?’ says Dad, and I look up at him. ‘Did you want to sort out the drinks?’

Before I get a chance to react, Julie heads over to the fridge.

‘I’ll get them,’ she says, and she pulls out a selection of juices, before she navigates to the right cupboard and gets out the glasses. There’s a familiarity to her movements; she looks right at home as she prepares them all.

‘So, what’s cooking today then?’ she asks, handing us glasses of grape juice.

‘Well, if it ever cooks, it’s roast turkey. I was going for a kind of family Christmas meal vibe.’

‘In July,’ she says, laughing.

‘Exactly. But it’s running a little behind schedule.’ Dad lifts the lids of his saucepans one by one, grimacing at the contents.

Dad is always behind schedule with his cooking and usually I have to swoop in and take over if we’re ever to eat at a reasonable time. I’m just about to offer when Julie shakes her head and goes and grabs the much-neglected apron off the back of the door and slips it over her dress before she shoos Dad away.

‘What are we up against?’ She lifts up the same saucepan lid that Dad had, and she laughs with him as they peer down at it.

‘Take a proper seat, Miles, Edie,’ says Dad, ushering us over to the dining table in the corner of the kitchen.

I do as I’m told, but I still can’t get used to taking a back seat at Dad’s house.

The meal was every bit worth the wait. Julie did a great job of rescuing it and ensuring that everything was cooked on time and it tasted delicious. She spent most of the meal asking us questions and, as I put down my knife and fork, I realise that I still know very little about her.