Caroline returned from work, closing the door behind her and thanking the Lord that her first week back from maternity leave was over. She slumped against the wooden door frame, took off her heels and massaged her feet.

The headmistress had survived the well-wishers, the gossipers in the hallways and the pitying looks in the staff room. Even the huge backlog of work that had accumulated in the weeks she had been away had reduced slightly.

She was completely exhausted, but things were finally looking up. Kate was continuing to make progress and Flora was happy; both of which called for a (very large) celebratory glass of wine.

Dropping her shoes onto the floor, Caroline walked into the kitchen to find her curly haired daughter in a bouncy chair on the counter, while Celia sat on bar stool reading the paper.

"Hello mother," she said, ignoring Celia's eye roll as she pushed the baby bouncer further from the edge of the kitchen island, "please tell me you aren't reading The Daily Mail to my daughter."

"Nothing wrong with The Mail, dear," the older woman sniffed.

"Hmm," Caroline murmured, kissing her daughter on the side of the head, before repeating the same action on her mother, "something tells me you're going to have an uphill battle converting a mixed race child with two mothers to The Mail."

Caroline picked up Flora and held her aloft, smiling at the baby as she cooed happily and reached out to grab a handful of blonde hair.

"Nonsense," Celia scoffed, folding the paper and smiling at the pair of them, "I was reading an article in here the other day about Angelina Jolie and all her different types of children – nobody minds anymore, love."

Caroline raised an eyebrow, swinging Flora onto her hip, "Different types?" she repeated, exasperation edging her tone.

Celia rolled her eyes as though her daughter was being particularly dense, "They're from all over, the ones she's adopted with what's-his-name."

With that, her mother stood, reaching out her hands and taking Flora from a surprised Caroline, "Anyway, much as I would love to stay and chat, we have to be going."

"I'm sorry?!" Caroline scoffed at the audacity of her mother for daring to pluck her own child right out of her arms.

"Yes, some of Alan's friends are coming over and they want to meet the baby," Celia explained breezily, eyes drifting to the door where Alan had just appeared, "Oh, speak of the devil!"

The man bobbed his white head in greeting as he made his way into the room, "Hello love. Hello Caroline. Good day at work?"

He chuckled as Flora stretched a pudgy hand out towards him, leaning out of Celia's grasp.

Like everyone else in the family, Flora adored Alan.

The feeling was entirely mutual, and he smiled fondly as she latched a hand happily around one of his fingers.

"Actually it wasn't bad, thanks," the headmistress replied, feeling slightly off kilter.

She pushed her glasses onto the top of her head and folded her arms, "I hear you want to kidnap my child for the evening?"

Alan looked earnestly between his wife and Caroline, "Only if it isn't a problem?"

Celia tutted before her daughter had the chance to respond, "Don't be ridiculous, love. Caroline can use the time to visit Kate, I expect."

The blonde shook her head in exasperation, "Visiting hours have already finished for the day, but I suppose I've got some paperwork to do, if you would like to watch her for the evening."

Celia nodded to her husband, "See, we're doing her a favour," she smiled, turning on her heel and sweeping from the room.

"Come along love," she called behind her, gesturing for Alan to follow, "See you later, Caroline."

Alan smiled apologetically as he turned to leave, and Caroline was suddenly left alone in the kitchen, slightly dazed at the recent events.

With a shrug she put them aside and started that all important search for the corkscrew.

XXXXX

And so, Caroline found herself alone on a Friday night, trying and failing to finish her reports in her peacefully quiet living room.

She sat on the sofa, legs tucked under her, glasses on her head and paperwork on her lap. There was a pen in one of her hands and glass of wine in the other.

With a yawn she glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece, noticing the time with a start.

Throwing her papers down, she stood up and stretched her aching muscles, before going in search of her daughter.

It didn't take long to find her; Caroline only had to walk to the window and glance across the dark garden to the granny annex (a term which had stuck purely because her mother hated it with a passion).

Celia and Alan's living room glowed invitingly, and she could see her mother sat on the sofa with Flora standing on her lap.

It was clear even from this distance that the older woman had her chest stuck out like a proud mother hen.

Huddled around them were Alan and his two best friends, all cooing over the baby as she stretched out towards them with a gummy smile on her face.

Caroline snorted with laughter at how much her mother had changed her attitude towards Kate's child.

The sound of hinges creaking behind her made the blonde jump, and she turned to see her oldest son peering around the door with a small smile on his face.

William crossed the room and joined her at the window. When he saw what his mother was looking at, he shot her a sideways smirk, "Who would have thought granny would be so excited about the baby?"

Caroline shook her head and let out a puff of laughter, "It is actually unbelievable," she agreed, wrapping an arm fondly around his waist and giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, William. I'm off to bed."

The teenager grinned, "You know, mum – it comes to something when your 80 year old mother and your baby daughter stay out later than you do on a Friday night."

The blonde gave her son an affectionate squeeze, "So says the university student already in his pyjamas before 11pm," she laughed.