Her nightmares of him doing drugs or falling in with a bad crowd had come to nothing during his early teenage years and she felt confident that he now had enough common sense to make good choices. She didn’t like to tempt fate by questioning her good fortune too much, but she secretly suspected it was perhaps because Joshua had had her all to himself for twelve years. When Jamie came along, Joshua had been old enough to help with the baby and, as a thirty-eight-year-old mother the second time round, Claire appreciated the help – especially as Jamie had been colicky. Her second son never seemed to settle easily, and his naps were sporadic to say the least.

Claire hadn’t realised just how difficult it would be with a second child and she’d felt permanently tired for two years. But as Jamie got older, it became easier and he doted on his older brother, sometimes even preferring Joshua to her. Some of her happiest memories were watching Joshua entertain his baby brother and she believed it encouraged Joshua to be gentle, and even more caring and loving than he already was.

Picking up her phone, she was about to scroll through some of her photos of her sons when she heard a loud crash coming from another room. Jamie jumped at the noise and Claire rose from the couch, or sofa, as her mother liked to call it, quickly going to investigate. Jamie trotted after her, a train in each hand as if ready to do battle with whatever had intruded on their playtime. She’d barely taken a few steps before she heard Chris shouting from his office and she stopped abruptly, Jamie bashing into the backs of her legs.

‘Who left this bloody suitcase here? Claire!’

Shit, thought Claire, hurrying through to him. She had put the suitcase in his office, so he could lift it to the top shelf of the wardrobe. She would have done it herself, but she couldn’t reach. She didn’t think she’d left it where he could have tripped over it though.

Had she?

Stepping into the room, she saw the suitcase, along with a small table and lamp, all on their sides. He must have kicked the suitcase out of the way with such force it knocked over the table.

For God’s sake.

‘Sorry, love, are you okay? Did you trip?’ she said now, careful to keep her tone neutral, conscious of Jamie standing in the doorway.

‘No, I didn’t, but what’s it doing in my office?’

‘I couldn’t manage to lift it myself onto the top shelf of the wardrobe. Could you?’ she asked. ‘I’m not as tall as you,’ she added.

As she’d hoped it would, his anger dissipated, the compliment a pacifying balm on his irritation.