Steph pulled up outside her mum’s house. It was a two-bedroom bungalow sitting on the side of a hill overlooking the town of Kendalton. It was an unassuming property which blended in with all the other bungalows in the road. There was nothing about it which was notable and that was, no doubt, the way Wendy liked it. For Steph, growing up, everything had been very modest, from their home (a three-bedroom, 1960s semi), their family car (a Ford Sierra) and their clothes (bought from supermarkets) to holidays in a caravan in Dorset. Wendy was all about blending in and going unnoticed. In her younger days, Steph had often imagined her mother to be a secret spy who was living a double life. She couldn’t believe her mum was really that dreary. It was only her job as a police officer that was mildly exciting.

As it turned out, Wendy Lynch hadn’t lived up to any of Steph’s expectations as a super-spy, rather as she hadn’t lived up to Steph’s expectations as a mother.

Steph made a conscious effort to shrug off those thoughts and feelings of disappointment. She hadn’t seen her mother for over six months now and had spoken to her probably no more than three times, but maybe this time Wendy would be more relaxed. No longer a serving police officer, perhaps retirement had made her a warmer woman. Steph acknowledged that this was probably a high expectation, given her mother’s usual conversational style, which Steph had often likened to a blunt-force trauma.

She rang the bell and waited patiently for her mum to open the door. ‘You’re early,’ Wendy said, stepping aside so Steph could enter.

Steph checked her watch. ‘Only by ten minutes.’ She walked inside, not stopping to kiss or embrace her mother. It had never been something Wendy had done and by default something Steph didn’t think about doing. In fact, it was only her father who would show any type of affection. She had often wondered how her parents had become a couple – they had just never seemed a good fit, and their union remained a great mystery to her. ‘How are you?’ she asked as her mother closed the front door.

‘Fine, thank you. I’ve got a visitor. Someone you might remember.’

Steph gave her mother a quizzical look as she wracked her brains wondering who it could be. It certainly wouldn’t be any family. Her grandparents on both sides had passed away and Wendy was an only child, so there were no aunties, uncles or cousins. On her father’s side, there was a brother who lived in Australia, but she couldn’t imagine him visiting. They only kept in touch via an annual Christmas card.