Caroline stood in the middle of her kitchen, her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and her cheeks flushed with the heat from the stove.
Pots and pans were strewn haphazardly across the island counter, and as the blonde wearily surveyed the chaos, she wished for the hundredth time that they had just ordered a take-away.
Her eldest son hovered uncertainly on the sidelines, wondering whether he could slip away before he was noticed. It seemed unlikely.
Taking a deep breath, the teenager asked the dreaded question, "Mum, are you okay?"
Caroline pushed her glasses up onto her head with a sigh, "Do I look okay?!"
She glanced up from the pan she was stirring with a scowl, but her expression softened at the sight of her son suited, booted and looking every inch the perfect dinner guest.
William was hands down the most dependable person in her life, and she loved him for it.
"You look handsome," she smiled.
The teenager gave a self-deprecating shrug, "Thanks. Shall I lay the table?"
Without waiting for a response, he picked up a handful of cutlery and headed towards the dining room.
"Where's Lawrence?" he called back.
His mother let out a short laugh, "With your father. I specifically told him that I wanted the whole family together to celebrate Alan's birthday, but apparently he would rather spend the evening playing computer games in a bedsit."
William walked back into the room, "Dinner parties aren't really his sort of thing though are they?" he replied diplomatically, before swiftly changing the subject; "Everything smells delicious by the way."
Caroline's stress levels dropped slightly at the compliment, but suddenly the doorbell rang and she froze in disbelief.
"That cannot possibly be Gillian already?!"
She wiped her hands on her apron and headed towards the hallway.
"That woman has not been on time once in the 45 years she has been on this planet, and she chooses today to turn up bloody early!"
Swinging open the front door, the headmistress found Robbie stood before her, a large, messily wrapped present tucked under one arm.
Next to him stood Gillian, balancing on one leg and hitching up a stylish green dress so that she could pull on a pair of black heels.
Caroline's eyes widened, "You look nice!"
The brunette glanced up and rolled her eyes, "Well, don't sound too surprised!" she complained, wriggling her dress back into position and shoving a bottle of wine towards their host.
Robbie laughed good-naturedly at Caroline's sheepish grin.
"Sorry," she apologised, accepting the bottle, "Thanks for the wine. And you do both look very smart."
She stepped back and held the door open, "Come in. Alan's about to start opening his presents."
XXXXX
Lawrence jumped backwards as a stream of vomit missed his shoes by inches. His eyes were glued to Judith in horror, and he immediately realised he was completely unequipped to handle the situation.
His father's girlfriend was sprawled face down across the sofa, surrounded by numerous empty vodka bottles. Her head drooped over the side and her face was obscured by a curtain of dark hair, the long strands dangerously close to touching the puddle of sick on the floor.
Eventually she looked up, fixing the teenager with unfocused eyes, "Sorry Lawrence," she slurred, "Please could you get me a glass of water?"
The boy backed away and headed towards the kitchen, jumping at the chance to leave the room.
As he stood at the tap and filled a glass with shaking hands, Lawrence conceded that his mother may have been right; this was no place for a 15 year old. Not that he would ever tell her that.
The boy re-entered the living room to find that Judith was now on her hands and knees, making a futile attempt to mop up the mess with some kitchen roll.
"I'm sorry," she helplessly repeated.
Lawrence just nodded and placed the glass of water on the side before grabbing his mobile and calling his father.
"Hello?"
"Dad, Judith's been sick. When are you getting back?"
"Oh, Jesus!"
John, to his credit, sounded worried.
"I'm sorry, Lawrence. God, your mother is going to kill me. I'm just grabbing us some food, but I will be back as soon as I can. Okay?"
Lawrence shrugged.
"Okay," he mumbled, ending the call and glancing desperately around the grimy flat.
He wished that he could just get out of there, but phoning his mother was not an option – number one, it meant admitting that his dad was at fault, and number two, it would interrupt Alan's birthday.
He supposed he could just walk out, but he had no money and no means of transport.
From her spot on the floor, Judith made a retching noise, and in that split-second Lawrence made up his mind; he grabbed his phone and ran.
Stepping out onto the dark street, the teenager closed the door behind him, picked a random direction and started walking.
His only aim was to get as far away from the smell of sick (and the mess his father had made of his life) as possible.
John was Lawrence's absolute hero; he was interesting and funny and the only person who made the teenager feel as important as his older brother.
But tonight he had witnessed first-hand the life his father had chosen over his family. It was a painful discovery, but it gave him a renewed flicker of respect for his mother.
The cold air cleared his head and Lawrence stopped walking, realising that he had no idea where he was. He sat down on a bench, breathing some heat into his hands and stamping his feet against the cold.
A catcall from the other side of the street made him look up. A group of older boys were perched on BMX bikes, staring at him menacingly.
One of the boys gave him a sarcastic wave and the others laughed as they lazily cycled in aimless circles.
Lawrence felt flutter of nerves. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he quickly checked Google maps and groaned at the hour long walk home.
He bit his nails as he thought about his options.
Another of the boys yelled over, interrupting his thought process, "Oi, nice phone, mind if I borrow it?"
The others sniggered and jeered, gradually swooping their bikes in wider circles, until it looked as though they were about to approach him.
It was at that point Lawrence punched the call button.
XXXXX
Kate had thrown all the windows of the tiny box room in her father's house wide open, enjoying the feel of the cold air billowing around her and cooling her heated skin.
The brunette had been hard at work for hours and now stood at the centre of the empty room, her hair and face speckled with magnolia paint, pausing to admire her progress.
Her thumb absently scratched flecks of dried paint from the bangle around her wrist; a bracelet which only days before she had closed a turquoise lid on and promised never to wear.
As her fingers traced the cool metal, a vision of Caroline jumped into her mind, but she immediately pushed it away, pleased to find that doing so was becoming easier and easier.
As the exciting reality of being a mother got closer, the part of her that longed for Caroline was receding.
She looked around the room with a small smile. It was cosier than the nursery at Caroline's would have been, and she had not had time to make it quite as personalised as she would like, but it was now a bright and homely little space for her daughter.
Kate felt the baby fidget inside her and splayed her hand affectionately over her bump. Like everything in the brunette's life at the moment, it was not what she had been planning, but it would work out just fine.
Suddenly, Kate's phone buzzed and she grabbed it from the window sill, frowning as Lawrence's name lit up the screen.
For a moment she hesitated; she had never been Lawrence's favourite person, and for all she knew, it might be Caroline using his number to trick her into answering.
Then again, there could be a genuine problem.
The brunette knew, from the leap of concern in her chest, that if there was an issue, she would still want to help.
Taking a deep breath, she accepted the call.
"Hello?"
"Ms McKenzie…Kate…it's Lawrence."