‘Ooh, if I could turn back time . . .’ Bess sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip of her third cup of coffee of the day and thought about it. ‘I’d revise for those bloody exams, become an air hostess and marry a pilot. And I’d live in one of those executive mock-Tudor numbers up on the highway, and I’d have a firepit in the back garden and an ornamental fountain in the front.’ She ran her tongue over the broken tooth at the back of her mouth. ‘And he’d probably drive me home from my private dentist appointment in his sports car, before ripping the clothes off me and taking me on the kitchen table.’ She patted the top of the table at which she was sitting and noted the slight wobble to one of the legs. This table would need levelling before it could withstand any hanky-panky, that was for sure. She could just see her suggesting such a thing to Mario, who would probably ferret around trying to find a playing card or two to fold over and make up the wobble on the short leg before they could commence. And by the time the table was steady, they would undoubtedly have gone off the boil and would settle for a cup of tea and a couple of digestives instead.

Chutney, she was sure, rolled his eyes at her.

‘Actually . . . Chutney, if I could turn back time . . .’ She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling the scent of sandalwood that filled her nostrils as she blinked away her tears. ‘If I could turn back time, I’d be braver – I’d be brave,’ she corrected, ‘at least I like to think I would. And I might not be able to change my past, but I know I need to change my future, because feeling this way, with so much bottled up, it doesn’t do me any good and it doesn’t do Mario any good, does it? I know it, but how do I begin? How do I go back and reclaim the person I was? How do I get back to that?’ She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. ‘Come on, Bess, not today.’

Her phone rang and made her jump. ‘It’s me! It’s Mum!’ her mother called into her ear, as if she were calling long distance and had to yell.

‘Yes, Mum, I’ve told you a million times: when you call, I see your number and name pop up on my phone, so I know it’s you before you even say a word!’

‘Righty-ho. Well, just a minute, love.’ There was the sound of fumbling and then her mother yelled, ‘Eddie, she’s on the phone! Come on – and don’t forget your harmonica!’ She came back to the phone. ‘Your dad’s just coming, love. Hang on!’