He gave another of those wintry smiles. ‘We’re well equipped for nipping such things in the bud, Miss Hill. After all, if any of us hear the story, it will be obvious where it has come from. I’ll be making that plain to the two individuals in question.’ He twiddled a pen between his fingers and it caught the winter sunlight streaming through the window. ‘We also have PSHE lessons – personal, social, health and economic education,’ he added, when she regarded him blankly. ‘We’re free to address the topics most relevant to our pupils. I shall be talking about relationships with fellow students and acceptable social behaviour. Not for the first or last time.’

Laurel rose to leave. Awkwardly, she said, ‘Thank you. I won’t be asking you to leave my sister out of the loop ordinarily. It’s just …’

‘I understand the sensitivities in this situation.’ Mr Williams walked her back to reception for her to sign out in the visitor’s book before he hurried off to teach.

Laurel drove home feeling as light as air, convinced Mr Williams had everything sorted. Maybe she wouldn’t have been too awful at the parenting lark. Her happiness dimmed as she acknowledged she’d never have the opportunity.

At least she had a share in Daisy while she was in Middledip, though.

Her car ate up the miles and soon she was swinging into Great End. Through Rea’s office window she could see her, headset on, lips moving, looking up to wave at Laurel without faltering.

Laurel went indoors only long enough to grab her paint-daubed overshirt, then, her mind clear of other responsibilities for the moment, she ran up the path to the studio. Inside, she hung up her coat, turned on the heaters and breathed in the smell of paper and new canvas. She grabbed the A3 pad just waiting for her first pencil strokes and switched on her big Mac Pro to search for videos of willowy ballerinas and sinuous Latin dancers.

A pencil jumped into her hand and began to swoop across the paper as she experimented with female figures, upflung arms and trailing legs, thinking of colours and flowers and shapes.

Later, she set up a paint palette to her preference: warm colours, cold colours and finally neutrals. Paper would do for now. It would be a while before she was ready to begin on the kind of large canvas she liked to use for her bold-statement works.

She began playing around with colours for the hair – burnt sienna, ultramarine, yellow oxide for a streaky impression, then flowers of aqua and white. Perhaps the dress could be aqua, too … She thought of sea foam and breaking waves on a sunny day in winter.