She tried to keep her feelings in check. There was a chance, of course, that this Paula was ringing to warn her off, to say: stay away from my dad, you’re not welcome in our family. But if that was the case, would she really be ringing Constance and introducing herself as Frankie’s sister? No. Surely not.

‘Zero . . . four . . .’ said Constance, coming to the end of the number.

There was a lump in Frankie’s throat as she finished writing; she felt happy and excited, dazed even. ‘Thank you!’ she said, staring at the numbers on the paper and underlining the name Paula with a flourish. The start of a whole new conversation. You always wanted a brother or a sister, didn’t you? she heard her mum say in her head. Oh, and she had. She had! ‘Thank you very much.’

‘My pleasure,’ Constance replied. ‘I must say, I’m quite intrigued. You’ll have to tell me all about it next time we meet up. But in the meantime . . . How are those dragons?’

Gah. Frankie should have known that, even with sisterly revelations and bombshells, Constance wouldn’t let her get away without checking in on her work. ‘Um . . .’ she said. ‘The dragons are coming together. I’ll have something to show you before long.’ Just as soon as I’ve worked out what to say to my new sister, she thought, hanging up and beaming at her reflection.

‘Talk to you soon, Paula,’ she said into the quiet air, trying to tamp down the excitement sparking up inside her. Because it might all come to nothing, she reminded herself sternly. It might be a closed door, rather than an open one. But then again, it might be wonderful. A really lovely new connection to be made. ‘Here’s hoping,’ she murmured, crossing her fingers as she went to tell Craig.

Up in Harrogate, Alison was in the spotless kitchen of a new client, snipping the ends off her wet hair, the blades of her scissors flashing in the sunshine. It was a warm bright day outside and her client – Molly – had made her a really delicious coffee with properly frothed milk, but even so, Alison felt distracted and ill at ease. She hadn’t spoken to Robyn since her daughter’s little outburst on Saturday morning, keeping herself busy instead, first with her bridal-hair appointment immediately afterwards, and then knuckling down to a thorough cleaning session at home later in the afternoon. That evening, she’d sat on the sofa for five straight hours, catching up on all the programmes she’d missed while staying at her daughter’s, but annoyingly it had been difficult to concentrate. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself thinking about the look on Robyn’s face as she’d spat all those cruel words out, tearing into Alison as if she felt nothing but disdain for her.