Daniel arrived at ten the next morning with his mother.

Patricia Hart walked into my kitchen as if she already owned it. She ran a finger along the counter and inspected it.

“Well,” she said. “At least you kept the place clean. That was your one job.”

Daniel carried boxes to his car. Leo stood on the stairs in his pyjamas.

“Dad? Where are you going?”

“Dad's busy, mate.” Daniel didn't even look at him.

I went and put my arm around Leo.

Patricia handed me an envelope. “Daniel's being generous. You have seven days to find somewhere else to live.”

“This is my home,” I said.

“It's Daniel's home. Everything is Daniel's. You came with nothing, Grace, and you'll leave with nothing.” She smiled. “Honestly, you were lucky he married you at all.”

I opened the envelope. A letter from Daniel's lawyer, with an offer: £20,000 and the old Volvo, if I signed away any claim to the house or the business.

Twenty thousand pounds. For ten years.

I put the letter back and set it on the counter.

“I'll think about it,” I said.

Patricia laughed all the way to the car.