I had to admit the shelves had been a bit Old Mother Hubbard prior to her arrival. Wilting watercress and almost-out-of-date skimmed milk weren’t exactly set to contribute much to aiding my recovery.

‘Any news from the frontline?’ I asked, while she artfully arranged the roses in a vase before lifting Mum’s trunk on to the sofa so I could properly sort through it without having to bend down.

‘Your dad seems very taken with Chris,’ she told me.

This came as no surprise and, if I played my cards right, might now end up working in my favour.

‘He says he’s a credit to you, Tess,’ she smiled. ‘That you’ve done an excellent job training him up.’

That was a surprise and I was delighted to hear it, although it would have been even better coming from Dad.

‘Well,’ I smiled back. ‘At least I’ve done something right.’

‘You do everything right,’ Joan said firmly. ‘The way this chap has stepped up is proof enough of that.’

And how fortuitous had that turned out to be? Chris had wasted no time in nailing his colours to the mast and, given my decision to pull my feet out of the ‘live to work’ mire and plant them in the ‘work to live’ meadow, that was to be applauded rather than resented. My accomplished deputy had presented his ambitious streak at just the right time.

*

Later that afternoon, I delved deeper into Mum’s trunk. Right at the very bottom and hidden under what looked like a sheet of lining paper, I discovered some A4 envelopes containing pages and pages of what looked like diary entries printed from a computer.

Each sheet had a date at the top and as I flicked through, I could see that they were all in chronological order. A part of me was saying that whatever was printed on the pages I held in my slightly shaking hands was absolutely no business of mine at all and that I should put them back where I’d found them.

However, there was another part, a stronger part as it turned out, which was whispering that this was most likely the last possible link I had with my mother and that I might discover something which would help me finally begin to come to terms with losing her. I sat and began to read the top sheet from the envelope which was dated the furthest back.

I didn’t have to read too far down the page to realize that what I had discovered was far from comforting. Tears quickly blurred my vision and my breath caught in my throat.

I saw them together last night and it tore my heart in two. I can’t talk to anyone about it, so I’m going to write about it instead. I need to express what I’m feeling somewhere and this feels like the safest place . . .