I pulled a heavy box marked "miscellaneous" toward me and peered inside. It was full of photo albums. There must have been ten of them, all overflowing with photos of our life together.I opened the first. There was a photo of me and Charles on holiday together in Cyprus. It was almost painful to look at - we were so happy. Charles was beaming at the camera tanned and fit. Beside him, I was a lot paler than usual and covered with a heat-rash. Why he hadn't dumped me then and there was a mystery.

I couldn't believe how young we were in the photos , young and carefree. Well if I was honest, I looked a bit hot and bothered. I really didn't need to get heat-rash on my first foreign holiday with my boyfriend. Who wants to have sex with a girl who hides in the shade wearing a Burkha? The other hotel guests kept asking if I was allergic to the sun as I sat under the umbrella in my big floppy hat, sipping cold wine. While Charles surfed,water skied and paraglided in the burning sun, I waved encouragingly from my permanent position under a large parasol, surrounded by books and a bottle of rose. Life was good.

I turned the pages of the album. There was a photo of us on our last night in Cyprus- the night Charles proposed. I was absolutely radiant and bronzed by then (the miracle of fake tan). We were so happy and in love. I rested the album on my lap and gazed around the empty, soulless room. Where were those two people? When had life got complicated and daunting?

I flicked forward to our wedding day. Wow! Look at my waist! So slim. I was at least two sizes bigger now. I'd have to lose that extra stone this year. I wanted to get back to that slim girl. I wanted to go back to that day. I wanted to be relaxed and joyful again.

Sighing I flipped forwards to the photos of Alexei. I stopped then, overcome with emotion. There was one of us at the airport, coming through the arrivals door, holding our precious Russian angel. My sister Liz must have taken it. You could see mum running towards me, holding a bunch of enormous 'congratulations' balloons. Alexei was fast asleep on my shoulder; Charles and I were exhausted but elated. I looked closer: Mum was crying and so am I. Remembering that day still brought tears to my eyes. I peered at Alexei's sleeping face, the baby boy from Russia who saved my sanity and gave me the gift of motherhood.

I shuddered, remembering how I had shouted at him yesterday when he had vomited all over me instead of into the bag I was holding for him. The plane journey from Sydney had been a nightmare. Alexei had thrown up several times and then his little sister Lara had decided to join in. I thought we would never get to London. But we did.

The room was still dusty in spite of my best efforts. All of the windows were open to air the house, but it still smelt stale and stuffy. I'd have to scrub it from top to bottom. The walls were painted magnolia and the floors had that cheap, rope like carpet that rented houses tended to go for because it was low cost and hard-wearing. There weren't many aesthetic touches in this place. The carpet felt rough and scratchy under my toes. I'd buy some big rugs to cover it. I looked around and sighed again. It would take a lot of work to make this house into some kind of home. It was so drab and bleak.

Panic rose in my throat. 'Stop it Molly,' I scolded myself. 'It's not a big deal. People move all the time. Charles is happy about his new job. Be supportive. Don't show him how you really feel.' But he wasn't here now. He'd taken the children to the park to leave me in peace to unpack - or to get away from me, my snapping and shouting and general grumpiness. I found it hard to hide my feelings, but I was trying.

It isn't easy to give up everything that you love. I'd said goodbye to our house in Sydney, which I'd spent years after our big move from Bath, making into a perfect home. I'd left behind all my friends and family again - although truth be told, my younger sister and parents lived in Bath and my brother in New York, but still I had left my friends. And I'd given up a job I loved. It was all for Charles, for his new job, for his career, for his well being and happiness. I wanted him to be happy, of course I did, especially as he'd been so miserable since the last job fiasco, but I didn't really know anyone in London now and it felt like starting all over again. The problem was I'd loved my old life . Alexei and Lara were happy at their play school and everything had been perfect. Well OK. Not perfect. The last six months had been far from perfect. They'd been really stressful, actually, but now I was afraid. What if London didn't work out? What if Charles didn't succeed? What would happen to us then?

I looked at another photo to try and calm my nerves. It was one of Charles and me at Emma and Kit Brady's wedding in Bath, about four years ago. We're all standing arm in arm, heads thrown back in laughter. My best friend marrying Charles's best friend - how perfect was that? We'd all had so much fun together. Their wedding was also the day I found out I was pregnant with Lara, our little miracle. Such wonderful, happy times. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

When I told Emma we were uprooting and moving to London, she said it would be the making of us, that we'd have all this quality time together as a family and that it would get us back on track. I wasn't so sure about that. We been here exactly nineteen hours and I felt desperately lonely and homesick.

I pinched myself in exasperation. 'Get a grip, you dramatic cow. You're a forty year old mother of two. Make the most of this new adventure. Work at it,focus on making it a success. Turn this strange house into a home. Make your marriage work. Be nice to Charles. Be positive. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Forget your troubles- come on, get happy...blah blah blah.' The positive rant wasn't working.

My phone rang. I could see from the caller ID that it was my mother. I hesitated then answered it.

'And they call this summer!'

'Hi, Mum.' I crossed my legs and propped my chin in my hand - if it started with a complaint, it could go on for some time.

'It hasn't stopped raining all week. Honestly the weather in this country is a farce. We'll be getting a toonami next, mark my words. I've never seen such rain. It's all that global warning.'

'It's "tsunami" and "global warming" , Mum.'

'That's what I said. And, let me tell you, putting your newspapers in a green bin isn't going to stop the ozone layer burning us all to death.'

'I thought you said the tsunami was going to kill us?'

'It'll be one or the other. Your father has me demented, dividing everything into separate bins. He now has a compost heap in the garden. Did you ever? This is a man who has only ever given nature a cursory glance while pounding around the golf course. Now he's insisting that banana skins and tea bags and God knows what else go into this big pot he has on the windowsill. It stinks out the kitchen , not to mention looking awful. Honestly, Molly, he's getting very peculiar in his old age.'

I knew from experience that there was no point in interrupting my mother's flow. I put the phone on loudspeaker and got up to continue unpacking.

After another ten minutes of me mainly making the odd noise to acknowledge I was still on the other end of the phone she finally paused. "Anyway that's enough about that. How are you? All unpacked?'

I sighed. 'No I still have about twenty boxes to go.'

'Well, chop-chop Molly. Charles needs a nice home to come back to after work.'

'Thank you, Mum. I'm going as fast as I can.' I childishly made faces at the phone - this was the kind of behaviour my mother often reduced me to.

'It's important that a man wants to come home to his wife, Molly. Put a smile on your face and make the most of it. London is an exciting place to be.'

'But what if it doesn't work, we can't go back to Sydney?' I said, finally admitting my biggest fear.

'If it's doesn't work out, it doesn't and you will do something else.' Mum said, re-assuring as always. 'Life isn't straightforward, Molly. You should know that by now.'

'I am aware of it. I have an adopted son and I have just moved country again for my husband's job. Straightforwardness isn't something I expect or demand.'

'Marriage is all about compromise,' announced the woman who has never compromised in her life. 'You just have to get on with it. London is your home now. Make the most of it. Life is a long and bumpy road.'

I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I loved Mum to bits, but she wasn't exactly a soft shoulder when you needed one. 'All right, Mum, thanks for checking in with me. I appreciate it. Charles will be back from the park soon, so I'd better go and sort out dinner.'

'Well look after yourself and call me if you're feeling lonely or want to talk.' The phone clicked and she was gone.

Life had certainly been bumpy lately. I hoped it would be smoother now that we had made the move. But what if it wasn't? I tidied the photo albums away into the cupboard. I had to leave the past behind. Those carefree days were over long ago. I had to focus on out future, whatever that might be. Smile, Molly, I ordered myself. Everything will be fine.