And it was with Mum in mind that I set about reclaiming that first moment of happiness. Once I’d got my job back, I spent the next two years living as frugally as possible until I had enough saved for a deposit. With the small sum Mum had left me added to those savings, I was finally in a position to buy. Though I loved living with Georgie, the time had come to find a place of my own. Still, the thought of scouring property websites made me feel ill, like a recovering alcoholic trapped in a wine cellar. In the end, I didn’t need to bother with any websites as I found the house by chance as I drove back from a meeting in Oxford. Curiosity had got the better of me and I’d decided to take a detour through Caversham, the place where I’d grown up.

I’d stopped at the local florist to buy some flowers to put on Mum’s grave and as I drove to the churchyard I’d passed a house I recognized from childhood. It was the house my mother used to point out to me when we went to feed the ducks. Located opposite the park, it was unusual as, unlike the other houses in the terrace, this one had a white clapboard exterior and a yellow door. My mum used to call it the sunshine house as it always made us smile.

My eyes had filled with tears as I parked up outside the house and saw the ‘For Sale’ board. The white clapboard was now grey and dirty, the yellow-painted door badly chipped, but those imperfections made it even more appealing. Even before I found out that the house was in my price range, I knew it would become my home. There was something fated about the moment, something right.