“Hi, how was your day?” Helen felt like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though all she did was nudge a mouse and spill some coffee.

Clive was shuffling around Mills’ feet, his substantial bum wiggling in greeting. Mills fawned over him, stroking his ears and crooning at him, before replying, “Fine. I’m starving. Is there anything to eat?”

She kicked off her shoes, left them in the middle of the floor and glided to the kitchen on stockinged feet. Clive grabbed a shoe in his mouth and followed her, but Helen snatched it from him as he lumbered past.

She put the shoes neatly under the console table and followed Mills.

The kitchen was immaculate and smelled of bleach and lemon. Every surface sparkled after Pauline’s hard work, but before long it would all be undone.

Mills had her face in the fridge, muttering about there never being anything to eat, and Helen had an overwhelming urge to hug her. She wrapped her arms around her from behind and squeezed, love for her daughter making her feel dizzy.

In return Mills tapped at Helen’s cold hands on her chest like she was petting Clive. Helen pulled away and went to fill the kettle.

“Cup of tea?”

“Yeah, thanks. Rubbish day. Had a physics test.”

“Did you revise for it?”

Mills looked at Helen with narrowed eyes, before saying, “Yeah, course I did,” which made Helen think she hadn’t.

She was a smart kid, quick to pick things up, but prone to only doing enough to get by. Helen had been the same at school, only really putting any effort into English, and it had done Helen no favours. She had found school as tedious as Mills did, just something to be humoured until she could get out into the wide world and find her place in it. Helen had many regrets about that time in her life, but she had clawed her way back from rock bottom and was now living a contented life, albeit dull, uninteresting and predominantly funded by her dead parents who had never had any faith in her.

That was not what she wanted for Mills, whose whole future was stretching out ahead of her. Helen wanted that life to be everything hers had not been.

“Lydia didn’t walk home with you?” Helen said as she poured boiling water into a mug.

“No, she has hockey practice today.”

Helen wanted Mills and Lydia to be friends, sisters even, but there was a distance, a reluctance to get close.

“I think—” The front door slammed again, followed by uncharacteristic giggling.

Helen frowned, her hands pausing in the process of wringing the life out of a teabag. Clive lurched away again, ready to greet whoever was next. Feet thudded across the parquet floor in the hallway, heavy and rushed, and a husky feminine voice exclaimed, “Oh wow, who’s this?”