‘Jam?’

Kate turned to see Becky grab two slices of toast that had just popped up and start to butter them.

‘Yes, please.’

‘Now, you sure you don’t want any help later?’ asked Becky.

‘I thought it was hard for you to get away? The big scoop that’s too top secret to even tell me about.’

‘You’re right. All exposé journalists should discuss their story first with their mothers.’

‘Oh, go on, give us a clue. Is it someone famous? An actor caught with a washing-up bottle and a goldfish?’

Becky stared. ‘What the heck . . .?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to know. You know I can’t tell you what I’m up to . . . not yet anyway. I have to get my story first, get all my facts straight.’

‘Can you at least tell me where you’ve been disappearing off to?’

Becky, taller than her mum, held Kate’s head and kissed the top of it. ‘No. So. Later?’

‘I thought I’d try steak.’

‘Pie?’

‘Fillet.’

Becky whistled. ‘He is special. Or is that for me?’

‘Of course, you too.’

‘I can’t wait to meet him.’

‘He can’t wait to meet you.’

‘Maybe I’ll question him.’

‘He’s not hiding anything. He’s just a bus driver. You don’t have to do your investigative journalist routine.’

Toast ready, Becky handed one slice to her mum. She spoke solemnly. ‘Remind me. How many dates have you two had?’

Kate giggled. ‘Are you worried about his intentions?’

‘Does he open doors? Walk on the outside edge of the pavement? Take his shoes off when he comes to the house?’

‘He’s not been yet.’

‘OK, his house?’

‘He has a pair of very fine slippers. Moccasins. With fur lining.’

‘I will not rise. It’s just . . . it’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone. I mean, I know you’ve had dates since I was conceived . . .’

‘I should hope so. That was twenty-one years ago.’

‘But there’s not been anyone truly significant before.’ Becky paused. ‘He’s the Big One. I can sense it. It’ll never be you and me again.’

Kate laughed and touched Becky’s cheek. Gave the reassuring smile of a parent. ‘It’ll always be you and me. And that’s a promise.’

Becky smiled sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I’m used to it being just the two of us.’

‘So, now it can be the three of us. Sometimes.’

‘And I’m chuffed to bits, you know that. Tim sounds wonderful . . .’

‘He is. Do you know, he texted me a picture of dawn this morning when he was out on his route.’

‘. . . and romantic.’

‘Oh, and I meant to say, he’s bringing the wine tonight.’

‘. . . and generous.’

‘All right, no need to go overboard. Anyway, you don’t have to worry. Do you think I can’t tell a plonker when I see one?’ Kate pointed at Becky with her toast. ‘I tell you, I spotted that little tyke in the electrical aisle before security even realized he had a bloody drill up his jacket.’