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‘Oh, she'd love it, that's entirely my point. She'd never look back. She'd be away.’ I was dimly aware of history not being allowed to repeat itself, either, courtesy of a quiet determination; a very steely core.

‘OK, so now that she's met us, how does she feel? About coming?’

‘Much happier. As long as she knows you're all happy, that's her biggest angst. She keeps saying – but, Mum, why would they want me? They might say they do, but why would they really? She doesn't want to impose.’

‘She won't be imposing. Ant would love to have her. Anna would love to have her. I'd love to have her,’ I said, with a truthfulness that surprised me. ‘But she does need to be handled very carefully, I can see that. It all has to be done softly-softly.’

‘Otherwise she'll feel bamboozled, I know. I'm so worried she'll get the next train back and I won't be there to stop her.’

‘I'll stop her.’

I heard her swallow. ‘Oh, Evie…’ she managed.

‘And anyway, she won't do that,’ I rushed on, saving us both. ‘As long as everything's done sensitively, with patience—’

‘Endless patience, which is a lot to put on you, a lot of pressure. She's going to be desperately grief-stricken, she's got no idea. It really has just been the two of us all these years, and it's going to hit her like a truck.’ Her speech was coming rapidly now, as if she really were running out of time. ‘I know she hasn't properly got her head round that. It'll be awful for her, and pretty grim for you too, picking up the pieces, walking on eggshells when she's down, depressed, which she can be, occasionally, even at the best of times, let alone when—’

‘No, it won't be grim,’ I interrupted firmly. ‘It'll be fine.’

I'd heard her wobble over the last few minutes as I sensed she hadn't wobbled very publicly before. By adopting a position of strength, assuming the role of pillar, I'd allowed her to lean. I'd offered her that brief luxury, invited her to be weak for a moment. And I understood all too clearly that most of the time she was being strong for Stacey, and for Ted, holding it all together for them, greasing the way so they could glide on without her; resolutely persuading them this was the best course of action, when, in reality, she had doubts. Of course she did. Real reservations about uprooting her child at such a cataclysmic time. She knew it would be hard.

And as I informed Ant now, in bed, of the reality of what it would really be like, which Bella hadn't burdened him with either, he blinked rapidly.

‘It's not going to be easy,’ he said, and I saw a hint of misgiving flit across his eyes.

‘No, it's not. But it's not going to be impossible either. Trust me, Ant. It'll be fine.’

Which is what I'd said to Bella. Trust me. Odd, wasn't it, I thought as I turned over on my side and bunched up my pillow, endeavouring to find a cool spot on it, how I had no fear about this. No fear at all. Ask me to take an exam, or indeed put pen to paper about anything – even thank-you letters were a trial – and I'd come out in a muck sweat, but help an emotionally insecure teenager who's recently lost her mother? Integrate her into our family on a permanent basis? Cope with her grief, the fallout when Bella had gone? I'm not saying it would be a walk in the park but I'd roll up my sleeves without trepidation. And I needed a challenge. Except… my eyes widened slowly to the wall in the dark… I already had one. Shit. I sat up suddenly.

‘I've got a job,’ I announced to no one in particular, but presumably my husband beside me.

Ant sat up too. Sighed. ‘Macbeth does surely murder sleep tonight. We may as well give in gracefully. What d'you mean?’

I told him about the shop.

‘Right.’

‘D'you mind?’

‘Of course I don't mind. I'm delighted. But it's slightly come out of left field, hasn't it?’

‘Isn't that where everything's coming from at the moment?’

We sat a moment in silence. Then: ‘Did you enjoy it? I mean, the few days you've done there?’

‘I absolutely loved it.’ The passion in my response surprised even me.

‘Well, good,’ he said