As much as I loathe myself for allowing it, Barb’s comments have niggled me and burrowed under my skin; she’s injected her doubt into me. I know why she’s doing it, and it fits with her other antics, so I don’t know why I’m giving headspace to her thoughts. Maybe it’s partly because my own doubts have surfaced lately. The fact I haven’t seen Richard as often, only having brief phone conversations instead, has woken my negative self-doubt demon. The voice in my head that always shouts, ‘Why me?’ Why is a good-looking, successful man interested in a woman with two children and enough baggage to fill the cargo hold of a plane with? Nick’s lack of interest in me, spending more and more time at work, then me realising his attention had been on another woman, knocked my confidence. Knocked me as a person. He caused me to question my own existence. It wasn’t a fun time.

But this is my chance to grasp some of it back again. I have to try hard not to let Barb, or anyone else, sow seeds of doubt into my mind. This is my life. Nick had his chances and blew every one of them. Barb needs to get over it. Needs to realise her perfect son isn’t so perfect after all.

Life sucks, sometimes.

My phone pings.

Just leaving Granada services, won’t be much longer. Stick the kettle on. xxx

I let out a squeal. It really is like being a teenager again, and, for now, all my concerns evaporate.

Richard is almost here.

I’m standing at the lounge window watching Leo and Finley on their bikes, riding up and down the same bit of pavement as I’ve told them not to go out of my sight, when I spot a dark blue Volvo estate car turning in. Richard’s car. A tingling sensation ripples through me as he pulls up right outside and climbs out. I rush to open the front door. I greet him with the biggest bear hug the strength in my arms can manage, then pull back to take him in; soak up the moment. It’s weird when you don’t see someone very often; it’s as though I’ve remembered him slightly differently – the image I’ve held in my mind’s eye is one that’s filtered. It’s like meeting him in the flesh for the first time again.

‘I clearly haven’t seen you enough – you’ve gone full-on Grizzly Adams with the beard!’ I realise this being my opening line, having not seen him for weeks, probably isn’t what he wanted to hear, so I quickly cover his face in kisses. ‘I love it … so rugged,’ I say.

‘I’m glad,’ he says. ‘Are you letting this rugged man in, then?’

‘Oh, yes! And I’m not sure I’m going to let you leave again.’