With relief, she saw his eyes light up and watched as he ran towards the stairs to go to his bedroom. A few more minutes of quiet while she had a cup of tea and then she would get back to her search. But just then the front door slammed, and she heard Joshua and his friends in the hallway followed by a loud crash. Claire and Irene looked at each other in alarm before rushing through to the hallway. A bunch of flowers was upended, water spilling all over the tiles from the gift box vase that Claire had bought the day before. Two of Joshua’s friends were poised mid-wrestle, looking at the sodden mess.

‘Sorry, Mrs Carmichael,’ one of them said before extracting himself and starting to pick up the flowers, his wrestling partner following his lead.

‘Sorry, Mum,’ said Joshua, also bending down to help.

Irene and Claire watched in amusement as the two boys attempted to rearrange the flowers on the sideboard while another one took the tea towel Irene had handed him to mop up the water. Eventually, Claire stepped in.

‘Why don’t you go and get yourselves a snack from the kitchen and we’ll finish up here,’ she suggested. ‘There’s pizza in the fridge.’

They didn’t need to be asked twice and Claire watched as they trooped past her before they charged into the kitchen. One of them had already put some music on and she could hear them slamming the fridge, opening cans of Coke, and no doubt smearing slices of bread with butter for sandwiches. After a few minutes, she heard them take their snacks and storm upstairs to Joshua’s bedroom. After a final door slam, the music was turned up high and Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Finishing the flowers, Claire went to sit back down at her laptop while Irene cleaned up the kitchen.

‘You don’t know anyone do you, Irene, who might be looking for a job as a nanny?’ she asked now as her weekly cleaner put the tea in front of her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of asking her before. Irene had been born in Yorkshire and had moved to Castlefield on the outskirts of Manchester when she got married at eighteen. Now she was fifty-five years old, and knew pretty much everyone in the small town. She came in once a week to do the ironing and a little light cleaning. She was constantly sucking on Werther’s Originals but there was no one who could get the creases in shirts as sharp as Irene. She was very much in demand in Castlefield and no doubt Claire would have to let Irene go if she managed to find a nanny. Irene pursed her lips in thought, the Werther’s Original on hold for the moment.