On the surface, their relationship was still the same. They rarely argued, they still had fun with friends, they continued to do things as a family at weekends. It was the layer below where there were cracks. They didn’t argue because they didn’t have enough meaningful conversations any more, or perhaps because they didn’t care enough to get heated about them.

And then there was another layer, way below that. The one that had hardened just over five years ago – the root of all their issues, which was never spoken of. Janie didn’t speak to anyone about it: not her sister, not even her best friend Sophie, whom she’d always been so much closer to. Maybe at the time she could have handled things differently and not believed that moving to the New Forest was enough.

A house move and a change of scenery went some way towards plastering over what had happened, but the problem with putting a plaster on was peeling it off. And sometimes it was so much easier just to carry on.

Next to her, Lottie’s head nestled into her side and as she reminded herself that she wouldn’t leave Harry until the girls were older, Janie also wondered if it would really be that bad. Once the girls had got used to the idea, would they actually miss him?

She kissed Lottie as the school bell rang, before wandering into the hall and finding a seat in the fourth row. Something would happen, if it were meant to.

Janie craned her neck to get a better view around Lacey’s large grandfather, who was blocking the scene in front of her. It appeared Lacey hadn’t only brought Mum and Dad, as both sets of grandparents were here too – therefore was it any wonder she’d never be able to get a seat at the front, unless she started queuing at eight?

‘Mind if I squeeze in?’

Janie looked up and nodded as a mum she didn’t recognise gestured to the chair on the other side of her. ‘Let me move along,’ Janie said and shuffled onto the next seat, from where she had an even worse view of the stage.

‘Thanks. I was told to get here early, but I didn’t realise it would be this busy.’

‘Yep, it’s pretty popular. Who are you here to watch?’

‘My daughter Amelie. She’s playing the cello, of all things.’ The woman screwed up her nose and Janie smiled. ‘It’s bloody awful,’ the mum went on. ‘She simply can’t play it. You’ll hear for yourself soon enough.’

Janie laughed. This woman seemed like a breath of fresh air among so many stuck-up parents. ‘Janie,’ she said, holding out a hand. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’

‘Marcia. We’re new. We only started this term.’