She caught a flicker of concern that was quickly replaced by a grin. ‘What’s for dinner? Us technology wizards need to keep our energy levels up,’ he said.

‘Hotpot with cheesy dumplings and a side of pickled red cabbage.’ She started the microwave.

Gordon’s eyes widened. ‘Will this Alexa be able to cook like you, while you’re away?’

Shelly laughed. ‘Almost. She’ll tell you what to take out of the freezer in the morning, and how many minutes to heat it in the evening.’ Shelly smiled. ‘Do you think you and Bill will manage, Dad?’

‘’Course we will. We’ve got a poker school going one night, a couple of strippers on night two . . .’

‘You’re too naughty, Dad! Now wipe that silly grin off your face.’

The microwave went, bing!

*

After dinner, Shelly returned to the spare bedroom. Too exhausted for any more sorting and too emotional to listen to another of Gran Gertie’s tapes, she closed her eyes and recalled how she had first met David. David, the love of her life. A fortnight after her mother’s funeral, Shelly had waited for her dad to leave for the pigeon club. When she had the house to herself, she started to box up some of her mother’s possessions – it was an odd feeling to go through her mum’s handbag; it was there, in her purse, that she found the ticket.

The collection slip said: H SAMUEL, JEWELLER’s. COLLECT BEFORE 3.30 ON 24-DEC-2000.

That Saturday, dressed in her finest, with make-up, nail polish, everything, Shelly set out on a pilgrimage with only her mum in mind. For the first time since Christmas Eve, she really wanted to look her best. She walked to the bus shelter, as her mum had done, and sat alone trying to imagine how it had been that day. She flinched each time a car came racing around the bend, afraid that in some way she was invoking a re-enactment of the past. Thinking about death, she wondered if her mother could see her there, at that moment.

‘Don’t leave me, Mum,’ she whispered, aware of the space around her, feeling her tears rise, then remembering she was wearing mascara and sniffing hard. The bus came, carried her into town with her mother’s ghost beside her. Shelly stared at her knees. She could feel her mother’s arm against hers, sensed her sparkling smile, her pride and her love. In moments like these, it was so easy to imagine Mum was still alive. But the bus journey came to an end, and so did the dream, for a moment.

She headed straight for the jeweller’s shop, once again, imagining her mum walking alongside with that proud, this is my daughter air. That look always made Shelly smile when they were together.