The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square. Michele Gorman

I’m all right.’ But she does pull her hood down.

      Her hair’s blue. Smooth, shiny, pale silvery blue. It doesn’t quite go with her girl-next-door, slightly freckled face, though the stud in her nose toughens up the look.

      Not as much as her body language does, though. It’s so obvious that she doesn’t want to be here. From her frown to the way her shoulders are squared up to me, she’s ready for a fight.

      I glance through her file to jog my memory. That’s right. She’s the girl in foster care. ‘So why do you want to do this traineeship?’

      She doesn’t return my smile. ‘I need the money,’ she says, ‘and I’m used to looking after people.’

      ‘Have you worked in a café before? Or retail maybe?’

      ‘No, I mean at home,’ she snaps. ‘It’s me that does their meals and that.’ Her eyes slide away towards the window. ‘It’s nothing official. I just do.’ She crosses her arms.

      ‘That’s all right, real-life experience is great.’ Somehow, I can’t picture Louise serving customers. Shouting at them, maybe. Giving them the cold shoulder, for sure.

      I look again at her file, although I don’t need the notes. I know what I’ve got to ask. ‘Erm, about the referral. It says you’ve had some trouble lately? That you were arrested? Do you want to expand on that at all?’

      Her eyes challenge mine. ‘Do I have to?’

      ‘Oh, well, no, of course not. It’s just in case you wanted to explain the… the theft? The alleged theft?’

      Did you do it?! I’m dying to ask. What did you steal? Where on the morality scale is the crime? Was it a lipstick from Boots or the life savings of a pensioner? Should I be watching my handbag?

      ‘Next question?’ she says.

      I can’t force her to tell me. Social Services was very clear about that. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl I could force to do anything. ‘You’re seventeen? But you’re not in school?’

      ‘No, I’m finished with all that. Last year. But I’ve got to be in work or training. I thought I’d try something that uses my great people skills.’

      Her eyes widen just a tiny bit and I see the shadow of a smirk.

      ‘They do seem impressive,’ I say with a slight shrug. ‘You’d put anyone at ease.’

      She finally allows herself to smile. ‘Look, I need to work. I need the money and the government says I have to. I’ll do a good job if you’ll let me. I just need the chance.’

      Well, what’s the point of the café if I don’t give kids the chance when they need it? ‘I’m sure you will.’

      I extend my hand over the table. Warily she shakes it.

      ‘You’ve got the traineeship. Congratulations, Louise.’

      ‘Call me Lou,’ she says, standing to go. ‘I hate Louise.’

      Daniel meets me at our front door. There’s a giant bouquet of pink roses hiding his face.

      ‘What’s this for?’

      ‘It’s for you, because you deserve flowers and I love you,’ he says, helping to wheel the pushchair inside. ‘Doesn’t she deserve flowers?’ he asks Grace and Oscar, who seem to agree. ‘Just because you’re amahzing.’

      I smile. ‘You must still be feeling guilty about not answering your phone the other night. Do you want to put those in water?’

      ‘I would have, but I could only find the washing up bowl under the sink. I can get the twins out for you, though. Do they need feeding?’

      ‘No, Mum fed them before I picked them up.’

      ‘Good. Then we can relax.’

      It’s like he’s never been in this house before. ‘Yeah, right.’

      Oscar wants a cuddle while he recites every word he’s ever heard in his very own language, and Grace starts pulling all the toys out of the box in the lounge to show us.

      ‘Glass of wine, Mummy?’ Daniel says above the increasing din as I sink into the sofa with Oscar on my lap.

      As soon as Daniel sits next to me, Oscar decides he’d rather straddle both parents than choose just one.

      ‘I found my other trainee today,’ I tell him, keeping my wine glass well clear of the twin tornados. ‘She’s going to be tough, but I think she’ll work hard. Yes, darling, that’s a lovely bunny. She’s not going to take any crap from anyone, though.’

      ‘She’ll have to take crap from you,’ he says, nodding along to Oscar’s monologue. ‘You’re the boss.’

      I wonder how that’s going to work. I’m not really the authoritative type. I’d rather have everyone like me.

      He shifts to face me. ‘I’m so proud of what you’re doing, darling. This is rahly something special and you’re going to make such a difference in people’s lives. You do know you’re remarkable, right? I’m very lucky to be married to you.’

      ‘You too,’ I say. I love when he says things like this. Daniel can make me feel like the most important person in the world.

      I do get a little embarrassed sometimes, though. He’s so eloquent with his feelings, and while my family’s never been one of those stiff-upper-lip, sweep-things-under-the-carpet type of families, we’re not overly emotional sharers either. I’m still getting used to hearing Daniel talk like this.

      His hands cradle my face. ‘I’m rahly proud.’ His kisses veer from appreciative to deep and urgent. ‘Rahly, so proud.’

      I kiss him back. How long has it been, actually, since we’ve had sex? Too long, if I can’t remember.

      ‘Sir, calm yourself in front of the children,’ I tease. ‘There are impressionable minds in the room.’

      ‘We’re good role models for them,’ he says. ‘Mummy and Daddy love each other. Let’s put them to bed so I can show you how much.’

      Grace releases a noise that makes us both turn to our daughter. She’s squatting, sumo-style. It’s her favourite position when she really wants to cut loose.

      Oscar points at his sister, as if we don’t notice her filling her nappy.

      ‘Do you want to flip a coin for it?’ I ask.

      ‘I did get flowers. And wine,’ he says.

      Patting his knee, gently I shift Oscar to his lap. ‘I’ll do it.’

      As I lift Grace into my arms, Daniel says, ‘I shouldn’t be jealous of my own children, should I? That’s not nice to admit.’

      ‘It’s just that they need me.’

      ‘I need you too.’

      That’s pretty obvious from the way he’s shifting around uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Yes, but they need me to wipe their arses. It’s a bit more urgent, don’t you think?’

      Does he think I like being at the beck and call of these mini tyrants? ‘This isn’t my first choice for entertainment either. We may as well get them into the bath,’ I say, and the first spark of romance we’ve had in months goes out with a soapy wet fizzle.

      ‘Romance? You are joking,’ Melody says the next afternoon at Samantha’s. ‘With Eva and Joy sleeping with us?’

      We’re sitting on Samantha’s pristine leather sofas in her minimalist white cube of a house. I’ve often wondered what these old warehouses looked like inside, but Samantha’s isn’t a good example since they wanted all the space but none of the original features.

      ‘Just