The twins waved frantically at him, and he stood waving back at them until Kat finished backing all the way down the drive and disappeared behind the hedge. He wandered over to where his mum stood, arms folded. She and Kat were practically carbon copies of one another, separated by thirty years or so. The same high cheekbones and practically pointy nose. Thirty years. It struck him as he approached her that his mum was around the same age as Natasha would be now. He gave a slight shudder as he leant in to hug her.

‘Ooh, someone walk over your grave?’ she asked him.

‘Something like that. You alright, Mum? Sorry I’m a bit late.’

‘Well, you were born late, so I suppose I should be used to it by now.’

He smiled, just like the first hundred times she’d cracked the joke, and followed her into the hallway, lined with a This Is Your Life array of photos. Everything from him in just a nappy, sat on the same doorstep he had just crossed over, to him in full uniform, fresh onto the force. He lingered for a fraction of a second as he passed his own wedding photo, and took off his jacket, hooking it over the newel post at the bottom of the staircase. The colour on the walls had changed a few times since he was a kid, but the smell of constant cooking was a given. Harriet Porter always had something on the go: bread in the oven, boiling fruit to make jam. Today smelt suspiciously of cauliflower, and Porter opted to breathe through his mouth.

‘What you got on the boil, Mum?’

‘Cauliflower soup. There’s plenty if you’re hungry?’

‘I ate at the office, thanks.’ He felt bad for lying, but he’d have felt worse with a belly full of pureed cauliflower.

‘The twins were disappointed not to see you.’

Reading between the lines, she was the one disappointed that he hadn’t been there to spend any time with them. He shrugged apologetically, flicking the switch on the kettle.

‘You know how work can be, Mum. I’ll definitely be there for the party. Cuppa?’

‘You know they worship you, what with you being the exciting policeman uncle. It wouldn’t kill you to spend a bit more time with them. And with your sister,’ she added.

She was right, of course. It wouldn’t kill him. It wasn’t easy, either. Not like it used to be. Not since Holly. They had been trying to start a family when she died. Only for three months, but trying all the same. She wanted two, a boy and a girl. Porter would have settled for whatever they were given.