Rewritten

Chapter 1

A cardboard box sat on the table, a sealed envelope placed on top. Dylan eyed it curiously as she set her shopping bags on the kitchen side, one hand keeping them from sliding off. As she unloaded the mountain of unhealthy weekend treats, placing them into piles of increasing sugar content, she kept glancing back at that envelope. It was clear who had written her name across it; she would recognise her dad's handwriting anywhere, but he was usually so busy jetting around the world on business that the fact he knew where she lived was a miracle in itself. He must have asked her mum to deliver it, Karen Reyes being the only person other than Dylan to have a key to the flat, but even that was surprising. Her parents had divorced two years before, and though they were polite in public to spare their two children any embarrassment, they weren't exactly the best of friends.

Whatever was in the box must be important.

Just as she was about to abandon her collection of chocolates, crisps and sweets to investigate, her mobile rang and she dug around inside the pockets of the coat she'd draped over one of the dining chairs to dry. The weather had been horrendous, as usual, a staple of British life, and she'd forgotten her umbrella for the fourth time that week, leaving her unprotected during the walk to and from her job at the restaurant. It wasn't what she'd imagined her career would be after graduating from university the year before, but it paid the bills until she could get her foot in the corporate door. Her fingers finding the phone that was ringing impatiently in the pocket, she pulled it out and checked the screen before answering. 'Hi, mum.'

'Did you forget your umbrella again?' Karen's incessant need to smother her children was legendary; even though her daughter was twenty-two and her son seventeen, she was forever calling to check on them, doing Dean's washing, and filling Dylan's freezer with leftovers on a weekly basis.

'No, I'm perfectly dry.' She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers getting caught in the ratty, soaked tangles. Putting her mum on speakerphone, she crossed to the kitchen sink and started to wring the excess water from her caramel locks, the unruly curls now lanky strands.

'I can hear the water hitting the sink,' her mum said. 'You forgot your umbrella, didn't you?

'Yes, mum, I forgot it.' There was no point lying to her: Karen had a natural talent for detecting fibs, a bloodhound trained to sniff out dishonesty.

'Again?'

'Yes, again.'

While her mum nattered on, switching from berating her stupidity to pleading with her to wrap up warm to fend off her inevitable cold, Dylan continued putting her shopping away. Once it was done, she curiously checked the freezer to find that two of the drawers were crammed full, Tupperware boxes of soups, chillies and stews neatly set in rows. She closed the door and picked up her mobile, taking it off speakerphone. 'Did you pop round today, mum?'

'Just for a little while.' As always, Karen didn't seem to recognise the irritation in her daughter's voice. While Dylan viewed her mum's unexpected visits as an intrusion of her privacy, her key only to be used in case of emergencies, her mother believed that it was perfectly acceptable to pop in while Dylan was at work to clean, organise and generally meddle with her things. Her rebellious and lazy brother Dean might like that kind of thing, playing on his Xbox while their mum took care of him like he was still a kid, but Dylan liked to keep her own space just that – her own.

'We talked about this,' she said then, sitting on one of the dining chairs and sliding off her work shoes and the drenched socks beneath.

'I know, but this time was different,' her mum insisted. 'You have a package from your father.'

'I can see that.' She dragged the box across the table towards her. It wasn't too heavy, sliding fairly easily across the surface. 'I'm surprised he didn't send it through the post.'