Naomi groaned as their four-by-four hit another bump in the road. The journey from London to the New Forest seemed to last forever, and they had kept the pit-stops to a minimum. But unlike Ed, Naomi had the kidneys of a gnat. She lowered the car window a few inches, enjoying the feel of the dwindling January sun on her face. Already, the air smelt cleaner. They’d had a late start and soon it would be twilight, so she took in as much of her surroundings as she could. As they drove deeper into the heart of the countryside, she savoured the sight of the towering trees, exhaling a sigh of contentment as she caught sight of mud-caked horses roaming the land.

‘Did you see the ponies, aren’t they cute? They’re owned by the locals but they’re allowed to roam free. It’s a far cry from London, eh?’ Turning to her stepdaughter, Naomi’s smile faded as she was met with yet another dead-eyed roll. Morgan’s headphones were firmly planted on her head, despite her iPhone battery dying an hour ago. She stared morosely out of the window as they drove through the village.

They could have taken a shortcut straight to their new home, but Naomi wanted Morgan to see the place first. ‘They hold a youth club in the village hall once a week,’ she said, pointing to a pebble-dashed building with colourful posters hanging in the window.

Her gaze fell on a man washing his car on the patch of green outside. His eyes were small and beady, and goosebumps rose on Naomi’s flesh as he glared at their car. The man was reed-thin, his clothes hanging off his bony frame. Peeping through the rear-view mirror, she glanced at his haunting form. He stood open-mouthed, as if seeing strangers was a novelty. Come to think of it, Naomi thought, the road is very quiet.

‘Look at all the traditional shops, aren’t they lovely?’ she said, trying to garner some enthusiasm from her back-seat passenger.

There was no Tesco’s or Sainsbury’s here. No Boots or H&M. Most of the shops seemed to be named after the people who ran them. Naomi’s eyes trailed over Bareham’s butchers, Keeble’s flower shop, Rutherford’s newsagents and Jamieson’s motorbike shop. She’d heard about some of the stuff Morgan used to get up to in the Scottish village where she lived. While Harmony may have been happy to turn a blind eye to drinking and bouts of shoplifting, that wasn’t going to be the case here.

‘There’s a nice coffee shop,’ she continued, pointing to JoJo’s Coffee & Cakes. ‘I sent her a price list. She said she’d be interested in buying some of my muffins and cakes.’