“Choices, surely, are subjective and only the person who makes those choices can comment on the quality of those decisions, and usually with the benefit of hindsight?”

“Not in my house.” The road opened up and Martha drove a little faster. “Commenting on choices is a free-for-all, providing it’s my choices we’re talking about and doing it in real time is considered normal. And she’s probably not wrong. I was doing English at college until Nanna got ill.”

Became ill, Kathleen thought, but managed not to interrupt the conversation with the correction. It was the curse of being a presenter, and of being married to an English teacher.

“What happened?”

“I came home to look after her. My mother thought I’d lost it of course, but Nanna was like a mother to me. I adored her, and not only because she made the most spectacular chocolate cake and always encouraged me to be myself. She was kind. Not enough people are kind. She never once made me feel bad about myself and I miss her horribly, even after all this time.” There was a crack in her voice and Kathleen felt a flicker of alarm.

She was interested in hearing more about Martha, but not if the revelations came with tears. She’d wanted to unlock facts, not emotions.

She reached across and patted Martha’s leg awkwardly. “Your grandmother was lucky to have someone like you.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Now that the roads were quieter, Martha seemed more relaxed. “I suppose in a way my mother isn’t wrong. I have struggled to get a job, although I don’t know for sure that finishing college would have helped. I probably would have ended up with even more debt and no salary to pay it off. It’s tough out there, whether you’re a graduate or not.”

Kathleen was relieved to see that Martha was back in control. “What would you like to do if you had a choice?”

“I loved working in the coffee shop, but it wasn’t the coffee part as much as the people. I liked chatting. I suppose if there was a job for a professional chatter I’d apply for that.” She grinned at Kathleen. “Vice President of Chatting. Does that exist? Hey—” she pointed “—that’s a pretty gas station by that Route 66 sign. We should stop and take your photo and send it to Liza.” She pulled over and Kathleen dutifully posed for a photograph.

Martha, she thought, needed to get a job that paid enough for her to be able to afford her own place.

“Where shall I stand?”

“Right there is good. So if you were presenting a program from here, what would you say? I’ll video you—” Martha hit a couple of buttons on her phone and held it up. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for whatever it is you do. Take one. Action. Rolling, rolling, rolling.”