I sit there for what feels like hours or days as I try to work out how I can put this right. I'd like to pretend I have a moment of unbelievable inspiration but in truth, I almost give up countless times, and it's only when I remember that I haven't contacted my mother all week that I have an idea.

It's not even related to my current situation with Clara. It's about my mum. I walk around the block to the closest florists. It's just a bit before nine, and there is a closed sign on the ...