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      I try to block out any thought other than that of the road ahead, but it’s hard. I’m already anxious, and I’m fighting to stay within the speed limit. All I want to do is get home.

      I shudder as I glance through the trees and thick hedgerows at the other side of the road, where I know there’s a lonely, narrow path Elle would’ve had to take to get home on foot.

      I imagine all sorts in my head.

      It’s almost half-six by the time I pull into our drive. I see a white van parked across the road but I know it can’t be Iain’s.

      I get out of the car and run to the front door. The air is balmy this evening, and a sheen of sweat has plastered my hair to my forehead. I push it away with the back of my hand as I let myself in.

      I can hear the hum of the television coming from the living room. I can smell something else and realise it’s food – fatty and meaty.

      ‘Elle?’ I shout.

      I rush into the living room when I get no reply.

      The first thing I notice are boxes of half-eaten pizza and side orders stacked on the coffee table before I see Elle is sitting next to a man.

      Jason is sitting close to Elle on the sofa, a half-eaten slice of pizza in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

      Elle has her iPad balanced on her knees, her face illuminated by the screen. She doesn’t look up.

      I must be staring, because Jason shifts himself away from Elle and puts his beer down on the coffee table.

      ‘Hey,’ he says.

      I ignore him a moment and focus on Elle.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I watch her eyes move a fraction in my direction but she avoids actually looking at me.

      ‘Elle?’

      ‘How could you leave me standing there?’ she says, but stares at her tablet screen.

      ‘I just lost track of time. I’ve had so much on my mind that I just forgot and I am so sorry.’

      ‘We’re done talking now,’ she says. Her voice is harsh, cold.

      Even Jason shoots her a look of surprise.

      Jason . . . I turn to look at him now and wonder why he’s here. Anything’s better than dealing with how my daughter is treating me right now. Whether I deserve it or not, she’s just cut me down and I’m hurt.

      I stare at the pizza boxes.

      He looks sheepish. ‘Hope you don’t mind.’ He holds up the slice of pizza. ‘Iain said it was OK to order in . . . since we didn’t know what time you’d be home . . .’

      He trails off when he sees my face. I’m embarrassed, angry. I’m a whole mix of feelings I don’t even want to confront head-on right now.

      ‘There’s loads left over if you want any.’

      On autopilot, I grab a pizza box and head to the kitchen.

      Jason follows me and I hear Elle say, ‘Just leave her.’

      Jason mumbles a reply I don’t catch, then I hear him walking down the hall after me.

      ‘Where is Iain?’ I say as I bite into a slice of meat feast.

      ‘He had to go out on an emergency job.’ I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows hard, uncomfortable. ‘Elle didn’t want to be left on her own. Iain called me and I had just finished a job around the corner. I came straight over.’

      His eyes leave mine, wander further up my face.

      I pull at my fringe, self-conscious, yanking it across my forehead, not that it’s going to make much difference.

      ‘Where’s the job?’

      Jason finishes his pizza, saying as he chews, ‘With this lady in Pirton. She had a flooded kitchen, so Iain said we may as well order a pizza, to cheer Elle up.’

      This is what it’s come to. Cover the awkwardness with a takeaway.

      I’m not sure whether he’s making general conversation or if he feels some need to further corroborate Iain’s absence, as if I need convincing why he’s here with Elle.

      ‘Jason?’ Elle says, appearing in the doorway. ‘You’ll miss the film.’ She looks at me and I smile but she doesn’t return it.

      I notice Jason’s cheeks flush red. He realises how this might look. Luckily I know my daughter. Any infatuation with Jason is purely one-sided.

      I stare after her as she goes back to the living room. ‘I need a beer.’

      Jason goes to the fridge. ‘I’ll get it.’ He stands with his back to me and rifles in the drawer for the bottle opener.

      ‘I forgot her.’

      He pauses, before he glances over his shoulder at me. ‘She’ll get over it.’ He pops the cap off the bottle. ‘These things happen,’ he says as he hands it to me.

      ‘Twice in as many weeks?’ I gulp down a large mouthful of beer.

      He winces. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

      I smile weakly and reach for my handbag. ‘You must let me pay for the pizza.’ Avoiding talking about it, yes, I know, but this is weird for me. I’m a private person. Even if Jason’s a good friend of the family, I’m struggling here.

      ‘No,’ he says, waving his hand. ‘My treat.’

      I pull out my purse. ‘No, really, I feel bad about all this.’ He’s uttering further protest but I’m not really hearing him. I stare down into my purse. There’s a cashpoint slip where the notes should be, but nothing else.

      I’m sure I had money in there.

      I look in the coin section in case I broke into the notes, and forgot, but all that’s there is about three pounds in silver.

      I check the cashpoint receipt. I drew out twenty pounds yesterday.

      Strange.

      Maybe I did spend it all.

      ‘Put that away,’ Jason says, gently folding my hand around my purse, so it shuts. ‘Seriously, I’m gonna get cross. Pizza is on me.’

      I go to speak but hear Elle coming back to the kitchen. I see she has her tablet in her hand again. ‘Jace? C’mon, film’s started.’

      She ignores me, but I’ve seen the screen of her tablet and, thoughts of the missing money pushed aside, take a chance on trying to get her to speak to me, even if it’s a poor choice of subject matter.

      ‘Haven’t you had enough of reading about that?’

      She stares at me and then the tablet, looks bemused.

      ‘Don’t you think it’s a little insensitive?’

      ‘How so?’

      ‘We know Caroline’s parents. I know Caroline.’

      ‘Knew,’ she corrects me. ‘Knew her.’

      I remain silent. Elle’s grown up in an age where she has access to news stories all day via social media, on her mobile, tablet, laptop . . . She’s seeing stories like these all the time and, I worry, becoming almost desensitised to some of it. It’s becoming the norm. A click, read and move on generation.

      ‘Horrible, that,’ Jason says, craning his neck to see the screen. He’s clearly uncomfortable with how Elle’s treating me and I can’t help but admire him for trying to step in. ‘It makes you worry.’

      ‘I’m not worried,’ Elle says to him.

      ‘No?’ Jason says, raising his eyes to meet mine.

      ‘It’s

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