The agent laughs. Jess laughs. Izzy laughs but isn’t sure what’s so funny.

‘There’s a nice school down the road too. What you think?’

‘Can we live here now?’

‘No, love. Soon. Let’s hope.’

‘Daddy coming too?’

‘Not here, love.’

The estate agent becomes uncomfortable and stiffens until she attempts to banish the awkward moment with, ‘Refs are fine. I’m satisfied. Just the deposit and one month in advance.’

Jess looks up, her smile dying, though not all of her hope. ‘They said end of the month would be fine for the money? Just started a new job.’

‘You have priority but we can only hold it four weeks.’

Jess stands up, still gripping her daughter’s hand.

‘Can we go in the play-park?’

‘We got a bus to catch.’

‘Will we have a car when we move?’

‘She wants it all!’ the agent cries as she pushes herself off the wall and heads for the front door.

27

Despite the efforts she made with her appearance for the viewing, Jess is dead on her feet as she roots through reduced items on a supermarket shelf. Nearby, sitting on the floor of the aisle, Izzy is engrossed with a soft toy. A cat with a label attached to its ear. ‘Mummy, it’s Doctor Fizzle! Her birthday is the same as mine!’ Beside Izzy, a promotional display bulges with the same animals, their huge eyes peering out and seeking children whose parents shop in the store. The same characters from Izzy’s trading cards.

Jess’s phone rings. She checks it. Tony.

She kills the ringtone and tries to hide how visibly stricken she is by the very idea of her ex.

At the end of the aisle and between the obstructions of tills, shoppers, promotional placards, a man stands on the other side of the store windows. Pale of face, tense, a raincoat hood concealing his hair, he stares at Jess, his phone still held to his ear. Tony. Jess and Izzy don’t see him.

Jess throws a final item into her wire basket. ‘Come on, Izz , or there’ll be no time for tea and your bath.’

Sheepishly, cheekily, Izzy looks at her mother. ‘Can we take this little one home?’

‘No, love. We’re not shopping for toys today. I’ll remember him for your birthday.’

Izzy only holds the toy cat tighter.

‘Come on, put it back. We need to go.’

Sulking, she turns her back on Jess, still clutching the toy.

‘Izzy. Enough!’

Izzy doesn’t budge.

Jess takes a breath and peers about herself, uncomfortable with attracting attention. ‘Your mum’s gotta save every penny if we’re gonna live in that nice flat.’

Still no response from Izzy, who won’t release the cat toy.

‘Izzy? What’s got into you? Put it back.’

Refusing to meet her mother’s eye, Izzy continues to pet the beaming, bug-eyed cat.