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    I felt nervous as I stood and chopped the vegetables in the kitchen.
    “You’re not going to be hungry, darling, if you keep chewing those lips of yours,” Mum laughed. “Is there something on your mind dear?”
    My eyes shot up to meet Mum’s as she looked at me with a waiting glare.
    “Just want to get this right. It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for you,” I lied.
    “You sure that’s it? You have been distracted all day.” Mum handed me a glass of wine from which I took a massive glug.
    “I’m fine.” I forced a smile and continued looking down at the vegetables as I chopped.
    “Have you decided when you are heading back to New York yet?”
    Mum’s question took me by surprise. The knife slipped, and I sliced my finger instead of the potato.
    “Shit!” I cursed as I quickly put the finger into my mouth. “I mean shoot,” I said with a smirk when I noticed Mum snarling at my choice of words.
    “Let me see.” Mum pulled my finger from my mouth to examine the cut. “You’ll survive.” She smiled. “Let’s run it under the tap.” Mum walked me over to the sink and held my finger for me while the cold water washed away the blood. I felt like a child again; she had done this many times when I was growing up, mostly when I would graze my knees and hands falling from the tree swing that Dad and Uncle Anthony had built at the bottom of the garden.
    Mum was deep in thought watching my finger as the water lashed off it.
    “I’m not going back to New York, Mum; I’m staying here, with you.”
    Mum let out a hard laugh. “Oh no,” She shook her head. “You most certainly are not staying here; I don’t need a babysitter, Josephine.”
    “I know that, but—”
    “Your life is in New York now, not here.”
    Her eyes never lifted from my finger, so it was hard to read her expression.
    “I don’t want to go back, Mum; I want to stay here with you, and Dad would want that too.” I said quietly whilst trying to gauge her reaction.
    “Your father would want what is right for you, and staying here isn’t.” I opened my mouth to protest but was quickly stopped when Mum continued. “Do you have any idea how proud your father was when you got the call for New York?” She shut off the tap and placed a piece of tissue around my finger before lifting her eyes to meet mine. “He would want you to go back there, not waste your life here, where you became too afraid to even leave the house. New York has changed you.” Mum gently brushed my face with her hand. “You’re no longer the timid girl who left; you’re strong now, confident and happy, and I want to see you continue to grow, I don’t want to see you revert back to the girl who left here 18 months ago.” She smiled.
    “I don’t want to leave you, Mum, it will kill me to leave you here alone.”
    Mum left me and headed back to finish chopping the vegetables. “I am far from alone, Josephine. You have seen this house recently; it’s like Piccadilly Circus most days.” She smiled slightly.
    “And how about when it all dies down and people stop coming around so much, what then?”
    “You know our family, darling. That is never going to happen.” She laughed once and shook her head.
    I shrugged. “It’s decided anyway. I called my agent yesterday; he’s going to cancel all meetings and auditions that I had lined up.”
    “Yes, dear, I know you did. I heard the call you made.” She started to smirk. “And while you were in the shower, I called him back and made sure that he didn’t follow any instruction that you had given him.”
    My mouth fell open.
    “Oh, close your mouth, dear; you will catch flies like that.”
    “You called Max?” I asked in shock.
    “Don’t ever underestimate my abilities to make sure you do the right thing in your life, Josephine. You may be twenty-five years old” – she waggled the knife in the air – “but I’m still your mother, dear, and as the saying goes, ‘Mother knows