Finally, she released her son and I took my cue. I walked into the tiny porch, the sea breeze whipped my hair across my face and I pulled the stray stands behind my ear. The sun, which had been eking its way through a cluster of clouds when we arrived, was gone, casting everything in a gloomy grey light.

Behind me a lone seagull let out a desolate cry.

It was clear the saltwater-worn porch could not comfortably accommodate all three bodies but there we huddled regardless. My arms were pressed firmly to my side and I listened as Ben rambled a ridiculously extravagant introduction, something about me being the second most important woman in his life. I watched as Annie, with her lips tightly sealed, flicked her eyes up and down me in one swift movement – it was as though she barely looked at me at all. She then rested her gaze upon my face and her tight pout dissolved into a broad smile.

‘Hello Daisy, it’s nice to meet you.’ Annie spoke politely and confidently as she held her hand out towards me. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and shook it, only realising afterwards how quickly I had responded. I stepped back, slightly flabbergasted at my own speed to appease her. My palm buzzed from the pressure of Annie’s firm handshake.

Based on the photograph I had seen of her, I’d expected to be warmly embraced by the woman who was now my mother-in-law. Ben talked about his home life, I knew how he was raised, but he rarely spoke of his mother, he merely showed me a photo. She looked fluffy – as though she had a wholesome chuckle. Maybe someone who would wrap you in her arms with real affection. But it was apparent that looks could be deceiving.

I knew more than anyone that trying to paint on a smile everyday was a tiresome task and some days you just couldn’t succeed. Annie presented an air of glamour with her sleek brown bobbed hair with only a smattering of very light grey that resembled highlights from a distance. She was dressed younger than her sixty years in a perfectly pressed white shirt and blue jeans.

But her smile was merely her face scrunched up so her eyes became little slits through which she could safely view me.

It was a forty minute drive from our flat in town to Annie’s beach house, almost entirely in silence. I had allowed Ben to drive my car, a silver Renault Clio. I loved my little car and when he moved in I was worried he might insist we switch it for something more manly, but he seemed content driving it. He was a careful driver, meticulous and completely focused, never wavering to look at anything other than what was in front of him.

We were minutes away from arriving when Ben turned into a dusty track which would lead down to the house on the beach and quietly announced we would arrive in less than one mile. Panic pulsed through my body. For it was now, only five months since Ben and I had met, that we were on our way to meet the woman I would come to know as my mother-in-law. We had been so wrapped up in our bubble that it didn’t occur to me to wonder why Ben had waited so long to introduce us. It hadn’t fazed me, we didn’t need anyone else intruding into our perfect world; we were happy as just us. Families made everything complicated.