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Geeta Sachdeva.

They’d met several times over the years. And although Nicola acted dismissive of the woman, as if Geeta barely registered, she remembered every occasion in excruciating detail.

The second time – Nicola didn’t want to recall the first – she’d taken Charlotte to stay with Olivia before the new college term.

Charlotte sat beside her, quiet and gazing out of the window the whole drive. Not sullen, but guarded. She’d stopped sharing anything but the minimum with Nicola since coming out, and it was like a wall stayed rigid down the middle of the car.

Nicola gave her a lift to Oxford instead of Daniel because she’d missed so much of Charlotte growing up. Too late though. The time for unguarded smiles and arms flung around shoulders was long gone.

How was it not yesterday that Charlotte started school at four years old, with grass in her hair and scabs on her knees. Nicola tried so hard to get home before her bedtime, and Charlotte would stay awake, with eyes rolling in her head and young speech slurred, desperate to see her too.

“I picked these for you at school,” Charlotte said once.

She’d opened her hand, small fingers unfurling, to reveal daisies hidden inside. They were all mangled, but it hit Nicola square in the chest. Because her youngest had thought of her during the day. Charlotte had missed her and picked them especially. Then her heart clenched tighter, because Charlotte probably picked them all by herself, because god knows she found it difficult to make friends, or at least keep them.

Her lovely girl, with the most beautiful of smiles, didn’t hit it off with many. Too random. Too much talk of pet subjects, which captured her imagination, before drifting off. Then to Nicola’s frustration, she’d swing to the opposite extreme, making tight friendships beyond the norm and sharing all kinds of inappropriate things.

Like with the embarrassingly besotted girl, who stared at Charlotte while she played oblivious in the sandpit. The girl kissed her on the cheek, to Charlotte's surprise and she'd whipped round her head with that huge smile. Nicola and the other girl’s mother had whisked them apart.

In later years, Charlotte would shrug and say, “It’s alright, Mummy,” when Nicola didn’t arrive home on time to say goodnight.

Then Nicola sealed shut the relationship when Charlotte came out. After years of steering her clear of lesbian temptation. No, she couldn’t stay the night with that friend. No, that friend couldn’t stay in her bedroom. She could use the spare. And Nicola didn't care what other parents did. She wasn’t as na?ve as them and saw what would happen. Especially when Charlotte looked at women like she should men.

All that effort, for Charlotte to leave for university with a parting admission that she was gay. When Nicola scoffed she couldn’t know, Charlotte not having a boyfriend, the defences went up, and Nicola didn’t know how to open a door in that wall again.

All those lost opportunities, and Charlotte was suddenly nineteen and they hardly knew each other. Perhaps Charlotte had grown too old for a mother’s company. And Nicola wondered if she should let her go, and they kept driving in silence.

They pulled up to an unassuming bungalow in Iffley Village at the top of the narrow lane of houses that descended to the river. Nicola parked in the small, gravelled space in front, her chance with Charlotte elapsed and intending to drop her off and leave.

“I’ll help you with your bags then,” Nicola said, getting out of the car to a silent nod from Charlotte.

She hauled out one enormous suitcase with shirts poking out the zip, and the briefcase that Charlotte clung to like a life raft. Nicola tried not to comment on it but, honestly, the things she carried in there. Many, many pens. One and a spare were surely enough. Chocolate bars – just the empty wrappers. The several packets of pain-relief tablets. All of them half used. Why? Who opens another before finishing the first? Then the tampons in the pencil loops, there for all to see when she opened the lid.

But she mustn’t comment. This was as organised as Charlotte got, and at least they’d been on time. They’d made progress with that, with Nicola insisting on alarms for everything, to the point of anxiety for Charlotte, but it’d be worse if she was late.

Nicola knocked on the door and watched a curving shape approach through the frosted glass. She imagined the embroidered salwar kameez from their first meeting, and also the frown. Nicola hadn’t missed the look on Geeta’s face at the picnic when Olivia mentioned an ex-girlfriend. She’d felt the intense vigilance of the other mother, preparing to leap to Olivia’s defence, all picnic long.

Nicola opened her mouth to say thanks for having Charlotte to stay then make excuses to leave. But Charlotte joined her as the door opened.

“Hello,” Geeta cried. An enormous smile brightened her face and she threw her arms out wide. “Come in! Come in!” she beckoned.

“Thank you so much for having me.”

Charlotte all but leaped into Geeta’s embrace. Geeta's warmth and welcome set the tone and buffered Nicola Albright, and the pair walked together down the hallway before she said a word.

“Please come in,” Geeta said over her shoulder, and they disappeared.

Reluctantly, tentatively, Nicola stepped inside the bungalow. She pushed the door to with a click, nothing like when she threw open the door at home or the office.

Pictures covered the walls along the corridor, every inch, with school portraits, family photos and many smiling faces. What she’d assumed was a small bungalow opened into a spacious modern extension. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided an uninterrupted view onto a sweep of lawn and down to the river. A central wall split into a smaller lounge on the right, and large living space on the left, with kitchen units along the central divide where Charlotte chatted with Geeta.

This home was alive. With the sound of birds through the open, glass, sliding door. The chatter of Geeta’s young son running around the room. Olivia hurriedly tidying toys scattered on the rug and sofas by the back windows. Laughter from Geeta and Charlotte. The paintings on the fridge wafting as the boy ran past. And the aromas... Rich baking scents reached Nicola in a humid veil as she stepped into the living space.

“I’m taking Charlotte outside,” Olivia said in her clipped voice.

Charlotte’s serious friend took her arm and whisked her towards the back door, clearly smitten. It was also obvious that Charlotte remained oblivious to the fact.

“Wait!” Geeta laughed. “Take some cake with you?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, and Charlotte twirled back and forth between the two, as if not knowing which she wanted more. To disappear with Olivia into the garden or have cake first.

Get the cake, Charlotte, then go outside, Nicola willed. For goodness' sake. It wasn’t difficult.

“Come here,” Geeta said indulgently. “Let your friend grab some cake, Olivia,” she added with a laugh.

Charlotte stood easy and close to Geeta, with a warmth that Nicola envied, and Geeta cut a large slice of golden cake on the kitchen island.

“There, the biggest piece for our guest.”

And Charlotte blushed and beamed. “Thank you. This looks so yummy.”

“Go!” Geeta said, waving them into the garden, ushering them out to play.

Olivia twitched, as if annoyed with the juvenile suggestion, but Charlotte kept beaming, like she bloomed in this home.

So, not too old for a mother figure after all. It was just Nicola she froze out.

Nicola chilled with the realisation. She stood stiffly in her tailored summer dress and pearls, compared with Geeta relaxed in jeans and T-shirt, and young son spinning back and forth while clinging round her tummy.

“Would you like a piece, Nicola?”

Geeta held a plate towards her, with a golden triangle of moist crumbly cake, steaming rich buttery aroma, heady with cinnamon and cardamon, and thrilling with an edge of citrus. Everything about the offering was comfort and enticement, from the beautiful woman, all curves, motherhood and laughter. Everything Nicola wasn’t.

She raised her hand. “No, thank you.” Her cheeks numbed. “I won’t stay.”

If this is what her daughter wanted, so be it.

She didn’t even look at Geeta.

“Charlotte has a phone.” A small, silvery flip-top device that Nicola paid for. “She can ring me if she needs anything.”

She still didn’t look.

“I’ll see myself out.”

Nicola turned and strode back along the hallway, shoulders squared, chin raised, an exit that said she had important things to do, refusing to relent to the onslaught of domestic bliss.

It was nothing like her house, which saw a professional cleaner twice a week, because she didn’t have the energy to tidy the chaos Daniel left. Not after a long day at work. And not after catching all the balls Daniel dropped. Her own home felt clinical compared with this lived-in life and space. And her honest daughter, who couldn’t hide a single thought, as if a litmus test of happiness, glowed bright in this home.

And much as though Nicola liked to think she pivoted, she knew she fled. Saying no to the cake that smelled of heaven. No to the temptation to stroke the pad of her finger over the golden, smooth, blanched almond on top. And no to the warm company of Geeta Sachdeva.

***

So clearly, Nicola had issues with Geeta.

She strode down the broad avenue of St Giles, the stone college buildings glowing in the late afternoon sunshine, and green leaves peeping from the tips of the plane trees overhead.

Nicola mulled on her behaviour from over the years, dissatisfied that she’d never got to grips with the woman. Perhaps because her reaction was so inextricably bound up with her daughter, she couldn’t dismiss Geeta as unimportant and brush her aside, like she did with others.

That and the other factor.

She’d delayed returning to Oxford for this reason. Nicola had eyed Iffley Village ever since walking into its idyll along the river as a student. And after her divorce, she’d thought of Oxford as somewhere to settle and eventually retire. But Geeta Sachdeva lived there, so she’d prevaricated.

Nicola had eventually decided that with her early-morning court sessions, and Geeta’s laid-back domesticity, and whatever she did in her perfect family home, they’d not meet each other. Except on bin days, it turned out.

Disgruntled, she tapped her phone and set her alarm five minutes earlier to counteract that. She pivoted. See a problem, deal with it.

Nicola crossed the road and turned down the grand, Regency, stone terrace of Beaumont Street for her next client meeting, while Geeta stayed stubbornly resident in her head.

Clever Geeta with handsome husband, the biochemistry professor at Oxford University, and her perfect family home.

Geeta who raised intelligent Olivia, already part of the senior team at Bentley, Oduwole and Sachdeva in her mid-thirties.

Geeta, who was all smiles for her own daughter, Charlotte, who thought the woman walked on water and was the epitome of an ally and earth mother.

She climbed the steps into Bentley.

Geeta who was beautiful in a green salwar kameez, with long black hair in her forties, and in her fifties looked...

Nicola stalled in front of the reception desk at Bentley and partners. There were few who could ruffle her composure and make her swear, if only in her head.

...Geeta Sachdeva, in her fifties, who looked like that.

Sat behind the reception desk, in a short smart blazer. A cream V-necked T-shirt glowing against her golden-brown skin. Hair cut above the shoulder now, luscious black waves smoked through with grey. Large brown eyes, intelligent and engaged, and the gentle curve of her nose appealing. The heart-shaped face and prominent cheeks that seemed to smile, even when she didn’t. The shapely lips that did indeed smile, so full of confidence and benevolence, yet pinched with wryness in the face of Nicola. And the lines from the smile only added to her distinction.

“Geeta,” Nicola said. “Hello.” And she failed to stop a heavy sigh, before adding, “Again.”

And damn it, if the woman, who clearly didn't like her either, gazed at her with lively defiance. A housewife. Out posturing her. Nicola Albright KC. Feared barrister and queen of the courts.

“Good afternoon, Nicola,” Geeta said, all cheer and welcome. She leant forward on the desk. “How can I help?”

By not being here.

“I didn't expect to see you,” Nicola said instead. She stepped forward, adjusting to the situation. “What a delightful surprise.”

Geeta very obviously swallowed a laugh. “I was expecting you, however.” She glanced at her screen. “I have you down for meeting Alec at 4 o’clock.”

“That’s correct,” Nicola said.

With Bentley, Oduwole and Sachdeva handling high-profile divorce cases and wealthy clients, Nicola expected to assist often as an adviser and court representative, now based in Oxford. What she hadn't expected was to also see Geeta.

“So, you're working here?” she said, allowing an edge of surprise into her voice.

“Just started. It’s my first day.” Geeta’s cheeks twitched, amused. “I’m covering for Zain while he’s away.”

“Hmm.” Nicola said, nodding. “Is Zain on holiday?”

“Yes, he’s gone travelling.”

“Oh. Where to?” tripped off her tongue. She didn't have any problem engaging in small-talk although she had a reason to pursue the inquiry.

“It’s a round-the-world trip,” Geeta replied. “He’s hoping to take in the Americas then cross Asia.”

“Really?” Nicola said lightly. “And how long has he set aside for that?”

Geeta looked at her, those beautiful brown eyes shining bright. “Six months.”

Six. Bloody. Months.

Again, so unlike Nicola. But this was the problem with Geeta. She’d never learned to handle her.

“So,” Geeta said, sitting back relaxed in her chair. “We’ll be bumping into each more often.”

Exactly her concern. And, also, clearly Geeta’s.

It wasn’t like either hid the fact they annoyed each other. Yes, they were mature women who knew how to channel irritation into reserved politeness, or a passive aggressive lapse at worst. But it always lurked.

Nicola opened her mouth with a tutting sound. “How delightful.”

Geeta laughed and shook her head. “Yes. I love that for us.”

Then Geeta looked at her with a sympathetic knowing that wondered if they’d ever get on. As if she genuinely felt for them both at the situation. Then she sighed with the patient understanding and resilience she showed everyone.

And that Geeta came out better than her was also just bloody fantastic.