It had been almost a month since I’d finished my last temping job – a thrilling adventure through the world of data entry for a logistics company in Rotherham – and so far, not a single one of the agencies I was signed up with could find me a new one. Apparently I was ‘over-qualified’ for almost everything and even though I would have happily wiped Satan’s bottom for minimum wage if it meant getting out of the house for eight hours a day, they couldn’t find me a thing. All the shops had hired their seasonal staff already and no one else was recruiting this close to Christmas.

Peering through the window of the café, I watched as the shops and businesses turned on their lights, the high street springing to life, the post office, the off-licence, the beauty salon, the bookshop. Everyone else’s day was starting while I drank my coffee, ate my muffin and pulled my computer out of my backpack. Everyone had somewhere to go and something to do except for me.

Hands hovering over the ancient laptop as it clicked and whirred into life, I stared at the two rings I wore every day, the only jewellery I ever wore, really. On my left hand, my engagement ring from Stew, a dainty diamond affair shaped like a flower, that had belonged to his beloved Nana Beryl before it was passed down to me with the most serious of strings attached. And on the third finger of my right hand, my mum’s gold wedding band. She’d be so disappointed, I thought, twisting it around and around and around. Susan Cooper hadn’t spent so much as a day out of work, a fact she had been fiercely proud of, and the thought of letting her down when she wasn’t here any more felt like the worst possible failure.

‘Don’t wait for things to happen,’ I whispered, attempting to stoke a fire that had all but burned out. ‘Make them happen.’

With some uncertainty, I slipped my earbuds into my ears and dialled a number I had not dialled in months.

‘Vine & Walsh, Rose speaking.’

‘Rose, it’s Fran, Fran Cooper,’ I said, straightening my shoulders and taking a deep, steadying breath. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m well, thank you, how are you?’ The silky southern accent on the other end of the phone sounded surprised to hear from me, which was fair, given that I hadn’t been in touch for the best part of a year.

‘Really well but still looking for work.’ I tapped my fingers against the edge of the table, heart in my mouth. ‘I was wondering if you might have anything for me?’

‘I’ll happily take a look,’ Rose replied. ‘But I’m fairly certain we don’t have anything in your area, unless you’ve changed your mind about taking work outside South Yorkshire?’