One evening in May, I noted Emma seemed quite agitated. She was unable to sit still, constantly texting and smiling. She’d been away to Richard’s that weekend and I understood how she felt – it was sometimes hard to come back to real life. I was cooking dinner, and Rosie was drawing on the kitchen table, while Emma continued to be completely lost in her online world. I guessed she was looking at the photos of the two of them on their weekend, savouring every moment in retrospect. I used to spend hours doing this when I was with Dan.

‘Mummy, do you like my picture?’ Rosie suddenly said, having finished her masterpiece and waving it in Emma’s face. ‘Mummy… Mummy!’ She was yelling now.

I turned to see why Emma hadn’t responded, surprised to watch her gently waft Rosie away and continue texting, which wasn’t like her.

‘What a lovely cat drawing,’ I said, stepping in, so Rosie would feel satisfied and Emma wouldn’t be disturbed.

‘It’s NOT a cat, Nana,’ she yelled, ‘it’ a bruddy rabbit!’

I found this quite funny, but I didn’t let Rosie know that and glanced over at Emma, fully expecting her to pick up on this and chastise her daughter for saying a naughty swear word. I waited for rolling eyes and gentle admonishment, but Emma was completely oblivious.

Later, when we’d had supper, Rosie was in bed and Emma and I were settling down to watch some old reruns of Prime Suspect. But just as Helen Mirren began to instruct the ‘coppers’ about the latest killing, Emma’s phone rang. She immediately answered – after all, it had been glued to her hand all evening and I could tell by the way she said ‘Hey’ in a sweet sing-song voice that it was Richard and that me and Helen, aka DCI Tennison, would have to solve this case without my daughter’s help. She smiled over at me and took the call upstairs, while I continued to work out who did it.

She was gone for ages. Me and Helen Mirren had made three arrests and discovered a ‘bent copper’ before she was back in the room. At the risk of sounding a bit nosy, I asked Emma if all was okay.

‘Mum, he’s asked me to marry him!’

I picked up the remote control and paused the investigation. ‘Richard has?’

‘No… Ryan Gosling. Yes, Richard!

This was a surprise – they’d been together a while, but they lived in different cities and I knew more than most how impossible that was. But Emma was flushed with happiness and I had to join in. ‘Oh darling, I’m delighted for you.’

‘He says he doesn’t want to hang around. We want to get married soon.’

‘Oh… great… okay. How soon?’ This was all so sudden. I was happy for her, but couldn’t help but feel she was rushing into this.

‘In a couple of months… July?’

‘You want to organise a wedding in two months?’

‘Yeah, we’ll work it out. Thing is, he’s stuck up there in Scotland and we’re finding the distance a big problem.’

I knew about that, only too well.

‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ I said, torn between panic and elation, immediately trying to work out the childcare arrangements for a potential second child in my head.

‘No, we just don’t want to waste time being apart – like you’re always telling me, life’s short and we want to get on with it.’

‘But can he just leave Scotland so quickly – his job, his kids?’ I asked. ‘I know his kids are a bit older… in their teens, aren’t they?’ I knew Richard had been divorced five years, his wife had had an affair but he seemed to get the rough end of things, handing her the house and the kids. He adored his kids and saw them regularly at weekends. I knew this was going to be difficult, there was no way he was going to come and live here permanently.

‘Yeah, his kids are thirteen and fifteen,’ Emma said.

‘Well, I suppose they could come down here, stay with us some weekends…’ Then I suddenly realised Richard and Emma might not want to stay living in this little rented house. ‘Of course, you might want to move somewhere together. There’s a house down the road that’s for sale – that would be handy for me to collect Rosie and…’ I started.

‘Thing is, Mum, we’ve been talking about it for a while, but I don’t think that would be right for us, not with work and Rosie.’

I tried not to look too relieved. ‘I can see what you mean, you wouldn’t want Rosie to be moved around too much. Having a new daddy will be a big change, probably best to stay here until everyone’s settled… I mean, you’re introducing another man into her life.’

‘Another man? Richard’s the first man I’ve introduced into her life, Mum – I’m not the bloody village bike!’ she snapped, and I heard Rosie’s ‘bruddy rabbit’ echo and realised where she’d heard the word.

‘Emma, I wasn’t saying that – I just meant there’s a lot to think about from Rosie’s perspective. You’re dealing with long hours at work and now she’s going to have a different family dynamic…’

‘In a different place.’

‘Different? I thought you said you didn’t want to move Rosie around.’

‘No, Mum, I didn’t say that, you did. And actually, I’ve talked to my boss and I can move to the Edinburgh office, where Richard is. In fact, it’ll be a slightly bigger role, a bit more money… and more responsibility.’

Now it was my turn to bristle, and it dawned on me that I wasn’t part of this plan.

I stared at the TV screen, like Helen Mirren might be able to give me some advice, but she had enough on her plate with three murders and a stroppy deputy. My foundations suddenly felt very wobbly. Given my huge capacity for worrying about situations that were never going to happen, I’d managed to miss this one which was staring me in the face completely. I was trying hard to be pleased about Emma’s wedding, and trying even harder not to think of myself and where I fitted into this strange new world my daughter was now producing from nowhere.

Emma and Rosie were leaving. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach; this wasn’t supposed to happen.

‘Talk to Richard…’ Emma was now excitedly dialling his number and handing me her phone.

‘What do you want me to say?’ I asked, still in shock, not ready for this conversation with my soon-to-be son-in-law and holding the phone like it was infectious. What do you say to the virtual stranger who’s about to marry your daughter and become dad to your granddaughter – and turn your own life upside down? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it as he’d already answered…

‘Congratulations, Richard – it’s lovely for Emma to have finally found someone. When I say, finally… I mean, it’s not like she’s been frantically searching… she’s had lots of boyfriends. Ha, when I say lots, I don’t mean she’s slept around… It’s not like she’s the village bike or anything… although, of course, she’s not a nun – she’s had her fair share of…’

At this point a rather horrified Emma whisked the phone from me: ‘Mum, for God’s sake, he doesn’t need my sexual history! Sorry, Richard,’ she said, putting the phone to her ear, ‘Mum’s a bit surprised and she tends to go on a bit when she doesn’t know what to say. I’m sure over the next few years you’ll get to know this and be as embarrassed as the rest of us by the stuff she comes up with,’ she giggled.

I put my head in my hands and watched her through my fingers. Emma was right: when I was nervous I attempted to fill awkward silences and didn’t know when to stop.

Eventually Emma put down the phone (not before some girlish giggles and secret whisperings) and we laughed about my incoherent ramblings. She was excited and wanted to talk cakes and dresses and venues, but it was all a bit much for me: my ship had hit the rocks. Everyone else was making plans and I suddenly felt like a gooseberry in my own life, not that I knew what that looked like any more. So much of my life had been about being there for Emma and Rosie and now that was ending. Naively, I’d imagined us all living together for years, with me there to help Emma guide Rosie through school and the awkward teen years and all the madness that came with it. But now I wouldn’t even see her start school.

‘I am just so tired,’ I said, ‘and I have lots to think about if we’re going to plan a wedding – so I’m off to bed, let’s talk tomorrow.’

Emma nodded, but she wasn’t really paying any attention to me – she was already back on her phone. If I’d done a mega slut drop right there in front of her, she wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, she was just so involved in the moment – and Richard. Having only just spoken to him, she was probably now texting him and I realised with a jolt that my little girl didn’t need me any more. I heard Dan’s words in my head, ‘Let Emma go and live her life so you can live yours’. How wise he was and how much I missed him now. Dan knew what I didn’t – that Emma hadn’t needed me for some time, I’d just been too ‘bruddy’ stubborn to admit it, even to myself.