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move or speak. Not for the first time she wished Sam was here to see the vicious snake inside his mother that she kept hidden just beneath the surface, waiting for moments like this where she could sink her venomous teeth into Flora. He had never truly believed his mother was capable of saying anything cutting or despicable.

Cecelia pulled out a stool at the kitchen island. The metal screeched against the floor, making Flora wince. She took a seat and carried on, changing tack. ‘What about Sam? What about what he needs? You may not be who I would have chosen for him…’ She coughed and wrinkled her nose. It looked like it was physically costing her to say that. ‘But I always thought you wanted him to be happy.’

‘Of course I want him to be happy,’ Flora said angrily.

Cecelia jumped on that. ‘Well then, why are you forcing him to move away from his family, from his support network? He needs his family around him. You know what a tight-knit family we are. You don’t have a family of your own so maybe you don’t realise how important family is.’

The second callous reminder of her parents’ death whipped at Flora like the strike of a rope on her bare back. ‘But we are only moving to the other side of Manchester, not the other end of the country.’ The meekness of her voice irked her. If only she could channel Sophie and be confident and strong. Her head was full of the things she really wanted to say. We are moving to get away from you. Sam wants to move away. He wants to be with me. But she knew as soon as she opened her mouth the words would fail her. She was the cowardly lion from The Wizard of Oz. Only there was no yellow brick road leading to her courage.

‘Exactly my point. Why do you need to move at all if you are only moving such a short distance? It makes no sense to me.’

They were going around in circles and Flora wasn’t sure how to end the loop.

‘Is it about money? If you had more money would you stay? I could make an investment in your little centre. Would that make you happy?’ Cecelia asked.

Flora wondered if Cecelia’s cup of tea was still scalding enough to do some real damage, were Flora to throw it in her face. The implication that she was a gold digger was not new, but the belittlement of her centre was a hard cross to bear.

‘Cecelia, we are never going to agree on this. Sam and I are moving, that’s that.’ Flora placed her hands behind her back because they were shaking, betraying her emotions; but the tremor in her voice could not be hidden. Turning her back on Cecelia, Flora walked through to the front door and opened it. ‘I think you should leave.’

Flora was astounded at herself. Did I really just say that? She did not dare to look at Cecelia. Choosing to study the floor whilst she waited for Cecelia to go.

‘Flora, wait. Please.’ Cecelia’s voice came out strangled. Her eyes looked watery and she seemed diminished somehow. Flora shut the door and came back into the room. ‘Please don’t take my boy away,’ she asked in a small voice. She stared down into her tea, avoiding Flora’s eyes, a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

Flora wished she knew if this was genuine or whether it was part of a ploy to get her way. She felt uncomfortable, not used to a Cecelia that could express any emotions other than hate and distaste.

‘He is all I have, Flora; my reason to get up in the morning; my reason for living. Please don’t take my boy away. I know it might not make sense to you, but I need my boy around me.’ A tear slipped from Cecelia’s eye, tracking down her face, peeling away Cecelia’s mask to reveal a mother who loved her child. She quickly wiped it and drew her shoulders back, taking a shaky breath. Flora could almost see the barriers going back up like a computer rebooting.

‘Anyway, I trust you’ll consider what I’ve said. I wait to hear from you.’ As she passed Flora, she whispered in her ear. ‘Think very carefully, Flora. Decisions have consequences.’ The threat hung in the air long after Cecelia strode from the house.

Flora slumped down on the breakfast bar, her brain and body weak from the onslaught of emotions. Part of her wanted to tell Sam that they were staying put. She was keenly aware of the importance of family, having had hers stripped from her so cruelly at the hands of a hit-and-run driver. But could she really give up her hopes and dreams for Cecelia? Surely Sam would have told her if he didn’t want to move. Frustrated with herself she texted Sophie.

Just had the Dragon Lady at the house. She is trying to persuade me not to move.

Sophie’s reply was instantaneous.

Not surprised, G said she’s talked about nothing else since you told her. Don’t let her get to you.

Unnerved by Cecelia’s threat and needing some space from all things Cavendish, Flora had taken up residence in her favourite coffee shop. It had the most beautiful green fabric chairs she wanted to steal every time she visited. She ordered a double espresso, followed by a hot chocolate with all the trimmings. Inhaling the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee she tried to let the buzz of conversation all around her replace the mass of thoughts in her mind. It did not work: she could not clear her mind.

She was so close to getting everything she ever wanted but she was worried about the lengths that Cecelia would go to stop her. Unused to her subjects disobeying, what would she do to restore order? Her words reverberated in Flora’s mind: Decisions have consequences. She wanted to throw her drink across the room and watch it

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