‘Well, welcome,’ Janie said and wondered whether she should invite Marcia along to their next coffee. There was, after all, an opening in their small group, once Anna started working again. ‘I have Ella playing the piano, and my younger daughter, Lottie, is at the school too.’

‘I’ve also got a son here,’ she said. ‘Year two: Miles.’

Miles. Janie continued to smile, but the hairs on her arms pricked up and for a moment she couldn’t find the words to respond.

Marcia continued to talk to her, but Janie’s mind had gone to other places. Marcia’s son was just a little boy, of course, but that name … that name had frozen her.

It had entered her head plenty of times over the years, though less so more recently. But the sound of it being spoken aloud – she had no idea her body would react like it had, and it was a relief when the children started filing into the hall. Marcia eventually stopped talking, and Janie turned her concentration to the child who had taken up the seat at the piano and was trying his hardest to thump out a tune.

Marcia nudged her when her daughter stood up, and Janie couldn’t help but smile. But her thoughts kept straying and it took all her effort to pull herself back to the present. When Ella took to the stage, Janie shifted in her seat to get the clearest view she could, tears springing to her eyes when her daughter eventually finished playing her piece beautifully. Ella remained at the piano for a moment longer as she looked over to the crowd of parents clapping at the back of the hall, her eyes scanning them until she eventually found Janie. When she did so, her face broke into a smile and it melted Janie’s heart that her gorgeous and talented, if slightly headstrong, daughter was so clearly pleased to see her.

For the rest of the morning Janie tried to shake away the thoughts of the man who would now not leave her head. Miles Morgan. She could picture his face as if he stood in front of her, even though it had been five years since she had last seen him in the flesh, or even in a photo. His dark hair, only a few flecks of grey then; the light coating of stubble on his chin; his bright-blue eyes; his height – he was at least six foot two, which made his presence in any room so overpowering. Harry was a man who, everyone admitted, was good-looking, but Miles was one who made you stop and turn.

Janie had always resisted the urge to look him up. To see what he was doing now. But that day, when she got home from the assembly, she couldn’t stop herself from opening up her laptop and googling his name to see where he was, whether he was still working at the same company.