At the high street, Shelly sat on a bench, watching the shop for a long while. She didn’t know why, only that she somehow expected her mother to come out of the door, and Shelly would understand it had all been a terrible mistake. Perhaps she had been with her mother at the bus stop on Christmas Eve, Shelly reasoned. Perhaps she had been hit by the car and everything she knew from then on had been a drug-induced dream while she lay in a coma in hospital. When her body was repaired, the doctor would wake her . . . her mother would be sitting at her bedside telling her everything was all right now – and her father would be smiling, like he used to.

Fantasies like this kept her lonely sixteen-year-old heart strong enough to continue under the weight of her grief.

She took the ticket out of the purse, marched across the pavement and straight into the shop. A man at the counter, in his fifties, looked up curiously.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Er, yes, please. I’ve come to collect this.’ She passed the ticket over.

‘I see. Are you Mrs Summer?’

Shelly wondered if he was being sarcastic. ‘No, she’s my mother. She was . . .’

‘I’m sorry, miss. We can only give it to Mrs Summer, unless you have a note from her and proof of identity . . .’

All the horrible hurt was gathering in Shelly’s chest. ‘But . . .’

‘Sorry, it’s the rules. Nothing I can do.’

It had been so hard to get this far. Her bravery was all used up. Anger and frustration escaped in an explosion of distress. ‘She’s dead!’ she interrupted loudly, hysterically. ‘She was waiting for the one o’clock bus to come here on Christmas Eve when a drunk driver mounted the kerb!’ She was really shouting now, fury holding her tears back. ‘Did you hear me? My mother’s dead! Dead!’

Her chest was heaving though she could hardly get her breath. She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and glaring in a struggle against tears. She swallowed hard, lowered her hand, and whispered, ‘Whatever it is, it was my Christmas present.’

An older man came out of the back of the shop. ‘Is everything all right?’ The assistant told him what had happened. He looked at Shelly in a kindly way, which made her feel even closer to tears. ‘Do you have anything to prove who you are, or anyone we can phone, young lady?’