Becky’s grandparents had missed Becky growing up, so it had been just the two of them, mother and daughter. Christmas cards had arrived, but Kate could tell her father had signed for her mother too. She would reply and occasionally drop in a photo of Becky, but there was never any acknowledgement of these. And then the cards had stopped altogether when Becky was six.

Having missed out on a future herself, Kate was determined that Becky would have the best possible opportunities she could afford. She worked two jobs to keep the house. She shopped at the charity stores and took advantage of whatever little perks she could from her jobs. Damaged vegetable plants from the garden centre that she’d nurse back to health and harvest a crop come the summer, leftovers from the Thai restaurant where she waitressed that were headed for the bin, and when she started at the home-and-garden centre, she took as many DIY courses as she could fit in so she never had to pay for any maintenance.

There had been little time for dates: a fling with the manager at the Thai restaurant that had ended badly when she’d quickly tired of his fantasy of shagging in the storeroom, and a few others, no one memorable. In fact, it had been more hassle than it was worth explaining about Becky, which made most twenty-somethings, and even thirty-somethings run a mile. And then, only a few weeks ago, Tim had come into the DIY centre to ask for advice. He’d been surprised at first to see a woman behind the desk (as was every man) but he’d done a good job of hiding it and had listened quite intently. She’d schooled him on the intricacies of fitting window flashings, and he’d asked her out. And for the first time in years, it felt like she had a chance to do something for herself; it was her turn.

Kate appraised her handiwork: the chips were laid out on a tray and the chocolate was in a bowl ready to melt. She went upstairs to shower and wash her hair – the same shade of auburn as Becky’s. As she dried it, she smiled ruefully at the early grey strands, then tucked them in so they couldn’t be seen. She spent very little time deciding what to wear; in all honesty, there wasn’t a lot of choice. A clean pair of jeans and a top Becky had bought her for her birthday with money from her first pay packet. It was deep purple silk with sheer sleeves and it was the most beautiful, most expensive, most sensuous thing Kate had ever owned. She still approached it as something she hadn’t yet got to know as it hung in her wardrobe, but when she put it on, it paid her compliments like they’d been friends for years.

The doorbell rang, and she ran downstairs. This was it, the night she’d been waiting for; introducing her boyfriend to her daughter. Not just a fling, but an actual, proper boyfriend, and then she realized: he was her first. At her grand old age of thirty-seven! Sometimes she couldn’t quite believe it was real; she’d met a man who was reliable, fun and someone who she felt would get on with Becky, plus she fancied the pants off him. Life was lighter around him, and at the same time more fulfilling somehow, and with a bolt, she suddenly realized she was in love. A grin appeared on her face at this new understanding and she took a breath, fluffed out her hair in the hall mirror and opened the door.