This moment with her coffee was a brief respite before what she knew would be a difficult weekend. She excelled at some things, but parenting wasn’t one of them. She’d been forty when she’d married, and Liza had been born nine months later. Of all the adventures Kathleen had faced, nothing had frightened her more than the thought of being a mother and having someone emotionally dependent on her.

She didn’t fit the template that many used to measure parental performance. She’d missed almost every sports day, had never attended a ballet class and had treated parent teacher conferences as optional. She had read to her daughter, although she’d always favored travel books over fiction. She’d wanted her to understand how big the world was, and she took some credit for the fact that Liza had achieved top grades in geography. But it was also true that the first time Liza had put two words together it had been to say “Mummy gone.”

Kathleen had always struggled to balance her own needs with society’s expectations.

And now she found herself in that position again. Someone of her advanced years wasn’t supposed to have a sense of adventure.

What was she supposed to do? Sell her home and move into residential accommodation to please her daughter? Protect herself and not move from her chair until her heart gave up?

In the sixties she’d smoked marijuana and danced to rock and roll.

When had she become so careful?

She finished her coffee and bent down to tug up a weed growing between the paving slabs. The garden was her pride and joy, but keeping it tidy was an endless task. She could pay someone, but she didn’t like having strangers in her home. She wanted to be able to drink her morning coffee in her nightdress.

The sun was already hot and she lifted her face and soaked up its warmth. Sunshine always made her want to travel.

“Mum?” Liza’s voice came from the kitchen door. “You’re awake early. You couldn’t sleep?”

“I slept perfectly.” Kathleen decided not to mention the headache. “You?”

“Yes.”

Kathleen could see that was a lie. There were dark shadows under her daughter’s eyes and she looked exhausted. Poor Liza. She’d always been so serious, weighed down by her sense of responsibility and devoted to keeping everyone’s lives on what she considered to be a safe track.