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I pause. I’m not sure what to tell her.

“Yeah, the project with Ashcroft’s been really fun.” I keep my tone neutral. “And we’ve just been finishing up one of the last campaigns with a publishing house.”

“Anything else?” And now there’s an edge to her question. What does she know? I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to sigh.

“I heard you have a new boyfriend,” she cuts in before I can formulate an answer.

My stomach drops. How does she know that?

“Oh yeah,” I say weakly. “It’s all quite new though. Tom, actually, Kath’s brother. You’ve met him before.”

I don’t bring up the gala, even though I know she’ll remember that.

“I know,” she says curtly. “I had to hear it from his mother when I bumped into her in the street. Imagine my shock when she came up to me smiling, so excited that her son was going out with my daughter.”

My stomach sinks even lower. Great. She’s already primed herself to dislike him… again.

“Oh.” I struggle to think of anything else to say.

“Well, we can chat about it next weekend,” Mum says, completely ignoring his name. “Bring him for lunch. You and Sophia were coming anyway. He’s a teacher at Ashcroft, isn’t he?”

“Yep.” I try to ignore her tone as she says teacher. Somehow in her mouth the word drips disdain. This is exactly why I’ve avoided bringing him over. She was bad enough at the gala, I have no idea what she’d do with uninterrupted time to interrogate him.

I think about saying no, but then decide not to. Tom wants to meet my parents and I’ve put it off for long enough. And now that she’s found out about him she’ll be relentless.

“I’ve actually been approached about getting involved—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“I really like him, Mum. Please be nice to him.”

I can practically hear her frown.

“I’m always polite, darling.”

After making small talk for another five minutes, I roll out an excuse to end the call. I wish I could talk to my dad about this, but he’s never around, or when he is he just says he doesn’t want to get involved.

I head back through to perch on the sofa next to Tom, who’s currently reading through a school history textbook and highlighting different passages. He’s wearing his Leeds University football jumper and still looks tense. The light catches his hair, which needs a trim, and I fight the urge to push it back from his forehead. My heart aches looking at him. I want to preserve this moment before anything interrupts our ecosystem.

“Everything ok?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say, with what I hope isn’t a too obviously false smile. “My parents want to meet you next weekend if that works. You remember that I was going to Sunday lunch with them?” He nods. “Well, they want you to come too.”

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into getting us to meet.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.”

“But it will be great to meet them properly again. I’ve got that meeting after football volunteering in the morning, which I can’t change, but I can come straight from that if that works.”

He’s smiling at me warmly. At least someone’s happy about all of this. I go to the counter to top up my cup of tea, mind still racing.

“You remember my mum can be a bit…” I trail off, searching for a word that doesn’t sound dramatic. “A lot.”

“I know, Claire,” he says reassuringly. But it doesn’t feel reassuring.

“Please don’t let anything she says get to you. There’s a reason why I’ve only been gradually letting her back into my life over the last few weeks.”

“I’m sure things will be different now that she knows we’re together."

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it.”