‘Mum, when will tea be ready?’ My daughter stands at the door, her face grim as she registers that nothing is yet being prepared. ‘I’m starving and you said—’

‘Yes, yes. I know what I said. Here.’ I open a cupboard and throw her a packet of crisps. ‘Eat these and tea will be ready in ten minutes.’

She regards me suspiciously through narrowed eyes. ‘A snack before tea?’

‘I know,’ I say, ashamed of breaking one of my own healthy-eating rules. ‘But I know how hungry you are and something important just came up.’

Maisie tears open the bag and pops a crisp into her mouth.

‘What just came up?’

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ I say, pulling a packet of fish fingers out of the freezer. ‘Something unexpected has cropped up at work and I’ll have to go into the office when your dad finally decides to come home.’

‘I’ll be OK watching TV, you know,’ she says, licking a salty finger. ‘Until Dad gets back, I mean.’

I place three fish fingers on a baking tray and hesitate.

‘I’m ten now, Mum. And I can call you if I need to. I’ll be fine.’

I chop half a sweet potato into small wedges and drizzle over olive oil as I think it through.

Maisie is right. She’s very sensible and I’m sure Shaun will be back soon. There have been a couple of instances lately when he’s disappeared off doing his own thing, but to be fair, he’s usually reliable. He probably won’t be very long; he’ll have just got held up somewhere.

Maisie waits for my decision, holding her breath. She’d love nothing more than for me to treat her as a grown-up.

You should stop worrying so much, give her a bit more space. Shaun’s frequent observation rings in my ears.

‘I’ll see,’ I say, sliding the baking tray into the oven. ‘Maybe Dad will be back before I have to decide.’

‘OK…’ She draws the word out as she slinks off down the hallway, the resignation audible in her voice.

I stand by the sink and stare into the garden. The lawn has stopped growing now and the beech hedge at the bottom is beautiful in its fully burnished winter foliage. The garden has always been Shaun’s job, but I guess under our new sharing arrangement, I’ll have to show willing come spring.

I pick up my phone and call him again. It goes straight to voicemail.

I text Joanne.

Just trying to sort childcare. Should be there v soon. Emma.

I don’t really know why I just did that. It’s looking highly unlikely that I’m going to get cover for my daughter. Several of Maisie’s friends live close by, but I’m not on a drop-in basis with any of their mums; play dates and sleepovers are always pre-planned.

Deeper friendships are made and developed at pick-up and drop-off times. I’m always rushing in and rushing out again, no time to dally or talk about the next meet-up for coffee and cake.

It would be seen as a bit rich for me to ask more of the other mums when I clearly can’t give anything back myself.

So I exist on a civil, pleasant level with them that never moves beyond that.

It’s suited me up until now. Three years ago, when I was desperately trying to recover from everything that happened, I naturally became more withdrawn, more insular. My social life has never properly recovered.

I glance at my watch. Please, please, let Shaun come home soon, I pray silently. Or let Mum at least call back.

If I leave in ten minutes, I can still get there for six, the time Joanne said she’ll wait until. If I lose this job to one of the other paralegals, it will be an amazing opportunity missed. I just can’t let that happen.

Waiting for Maisie’s fish fingers and wedges to cook feels like forever, but in a few minutes, I’m carrying her tea into the lounge on a tray.

She’s showing me her school reading book and explaining something about the story. I nod, my mind a blur and unable to actively listen.

There’s been no sight or sound of Shaun or of Mum, and a glance at my watch tells me it’s now my last chance to leave in time to get to the office for six.

Maisie is settled at last, eating her tea and watching television. She has her reading book and the phone nearby if she needs me. She can lock the back door behind me and keep the key in the lock in case she has to get out of the house in an emergency.

Shaun should be home any time, and anyway, I’ll only be an hour or two, tops.

This is a brilliant chance for me to impress Joanne Dent and make my mark on a high-profile case, securing a glowing career that will have a positive impact on my family.

It’s a no-brainer, surely… if I can only convince myself to leave my ten-year-old daughter alone in the house.