Helen lay back on the bed and stared up into the darkness above her, the lights twinkling gaily. She knew her head was not in the right place for writing or planning. Another thing Hugh didn’t understand. He thought it was simply a case of sitting down and starting to write, but there was a specific mental space Helen had to occupy first. In her imagination it looked a little bit like the land where the Teletubbies lived, probably because a lot of Helen’s early writing was done to a Laa-Laa and Po backdrop when Mills was young. Right now though, Helen’s head was full of images of The Time Before, bashing together like bumper cars, leaving dents and purple bruises. That was happening a lot lately.

Maybe she should ask Mills for some of her vodka. The idea made her smile. The truth was Helen was proud of who Mills was turning into. She wasn’t perfect, but she was a part of Helen. The better part.

She could hear music thumping up through the floorboards, the occasional laugh and rumble of conversation from Matt’s room directly beneath her. It was soporific and Helen could feel herself dozing off. But if she did that, there would certainly be no dinner ready for Hugh – and he considered ordering a takeaway to be an admission of failure.

Helen heaved to her feet with a sigh.

She turned on the radio in the kitchen and listened to random chat while she began prepping dinner. As she lifted a casserole dish into the oven and started wiping down the surfaces, she heard the front door again. Clive let out a small, gruff bark from where he had positioned himself at her feet, perfectly placed to catch any falling scraps. He heaved to his feet and waddled from the room.

“Hi, Clive, old boy. How’s things? No, leave it. Leave it! Helen!”

Helen walked into the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. Hugh was wrestling with Clive, who had his shoe firmly clamped between his teeth.

“Clive, behave,” she said and Clive glanced at her witheringly before dropping the shoe and lying flat on the floor, his legs stretched out behind him and his soulful eyes searching hers. “Good boy.”

She gave Hugh a small kiss on his cold cheek. “How was your day, darling?”

“Fine, fine, lots of marking to do though and a governors’ meeting to prep for tonight.”

“At least sit for a minute and relax. You work too hard,” she said, taking his coat from him and hanging it in the cupboard under the stairs.

“Dinner nearly ready? Something smells good.”

“Yes, not long to go.”

“Great, I’ll catch up on the news then.”

He disappeared into the family room. “My day was good too, thank you for asking,” Helen muttered to herself.

She followed him. He had collapsed onto the couch and was loosening his tie at the neck.