Wondering what she’d be required to do at said meeting, Laurel watched Daisy dangle her backpack from one shoulder, clutching her coat across her. When a bus rumbled into the bus bay, stopping with a hiss of brakes, Daisy waited, then waved. A girl and a boy detached themselves from the stream of disembarking students and hurried to join her, the girl’s ponytail flying like a flag in the wind. Daisy, presumably responding to their questions, gestured in Laurel’s direction, shrugging. Laurel imagined her saying: my aunt brought me. I said I’d catch the bus but … the faaaaaark? The others laughed, then they all hurried towards the big green building, still in obviously animated conversation.

She gazed after them with an uncomfortably familiar feeling in her belly that was colder than the ice on nearby puddles. This time it wasn’t her own unhappiness prompting it, but her niece’s. It might not be the school bus or lack of friends but something was making Daisy avoid art lessons. Laurel jumped when a polite toot let her know that another car was waiting for her space. Scrambling her thoughts together, she drove off, trying to remember the route to the retail park.

In another hour, now in the possession of heaters, emulsion called White Whisper, draught strip, and some picture frames, she arrived at The Nookery to transform her mum’s old studio into her new workspace. Letting herself in through the front door of the house, out of the icy cold, she stacked her purchases on the hall floor, mindful of the proximity of Rea’s office. She could hear her, patient and polite as she assumed the role of the voice of someone’s company. Her telesales organisation took calls from the happy, angry or disappointed customers of many clients. Remote working was common enough and Laurel supposed it suited Rea’s particular issues but it seemed a lonely way of working compared with the traditional call-centre set-up. Then again, Laurel was about to begin a similarly solitary working life. At least there had been artists in the neighbouring studios in Chiswick …

She forced the thought away.

That was the past and she needed to forget it. Today was about looking forward.

Keen not to disturb her sister, she grabbed a mug and some instant coffee then carried them and this morning’s purchases across the wintry garden. ‘Brr,’ she exclaimed, when she let herself into the studio, half surprised not to see ice patterning the inside of the windows as well as the outside. Her first job was making coffee and the second rootling through her boxes for her staple gun to fix draught strip around the windows and doors. Once all shut snugly, she turned on the heaters to stop her hands and feet from freezing.