"M-I-C-K-EY! M-O-U-S-E!"

Watching the animated figures dance across the screen in obscenely bright blocks of colour is sort of hypnotising. I don't even know at what point after getting home I opened a tub of cookie dough and fell into the kids' cartoons section of YouTube, but here I am, cocooned in my duvet, shovelling cookie dough into my mouth, and on season 3 episode 13 of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse: 'Mickey's Mousekersize'. I know I'm going mental when I start to seriously consider Mickey and Minnie couple goals.

"Hey, Ange..." August taps her knuckles against my door, but it's open already, so she comes in warily, as she eyes the round-eared cartoon mice on my laptop screen.

"Hey, Augs! Everything good?"

"Um, yeah... I was gonna ask about something, but this looks like a... dark time," she says, her eyes darting between the cartoons and cookie dough before returning to me.

"No, no!" I shake my head, wriggling it out from under the duvet. "I was just- now's fine, come sit!"

August approaches slowly when I pat a space on the edge of my bed, and alright, maybe I'm being a little overeager, but I'll take anything over mindless Mickey Mouse to distract myself from Macklin.

"Angie, do you think Mum's been acting... weird?"

"Weird how?"

August gets her bow-shaped lips from Dad, and they both purse them the same way when they're unsure; although with August, uncertainty is rare.

"I don't know. I mean, she's been wearing makeup recently - and she never wears makeup, not even to work," she starts, raising her full brows to make clear the severity of the situation.

I nod along slowly. "Mhm..."

"And the other day, I was trying to tell her about this new shoe store in the city, and I caught her smiling at her phone."

Incredulously, I tilt my head.

"Couldn't it just have been a meme?"

"Does Mum even know what a meme is? I'm pretty sure she calls them mee-mees."

Grimacing at the memory, I nod.

"You're right. Okay then, Inspector August: what are we thinking?"

August's shoulders are high, confident in her theory. "We're thinking that Mum has a man."

"No. Way," I say, blinking fast as I consider it. A man?

It's possible. I've been so distracted with distracting myself lately, that I definitely could have missed the signs. It's been ages since Walt; it only makes sense that she'd try and move on.

"But who?" I gasp. "Oh my gosh, not that guy from the Sainsbury's? He's always smiling at her, and he never charges her 5p for the bags."

"God, no. I was thinking Leo from Marketing - he's literally the first one to like her new Facebook posts every single time. Either him or..."

"Or?"

When August's lips press together again, I'm about to thwack her in the leg and force her to come out with it, but suddenly, Mum's figure marches out from behind my door with folded arms.

"Right," she says, using her back to close the door behind her and lean against it. "Since when did who I'm dating become a gossip topic, hm? And, for your information, I know exactly how to pronounce memes."

She says it like an alien sounding out a word they only just learned how to pronounce, but it doesn't stop the self-satisfied smile she wears afterwards.

August squeaks, jumping up from my bed to pester Mum properly.

"So you admit you're dating someone? Who is it? Do we know him? Is it someone you've been with before, perhaps?"

Mum looks over at me with a disbelieving smile that says, can you believe this?, as August tugs at her arm. But I see a timid glow, on her skin and in her eyes, one I haven't seen for a while now. Seeing her happy makes me happier than anything else ever could.

"Aug, Mum won't tell us if you yank her arm out first!"

Mum bows her head as a sign of thanks when August finally lets go and places her hands one over the other in an exaggerated show of surrender.

"So..." I twinkle innocently as I approach her. "Mother. Is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

Mum looks down shyly, but not before I spot the pink flush of her cheeks. Then, two thoughts race about in my mind:

Oh my goodness. Mum's got a man.

The bastard had better not break her heart.

She raises her left hand to tuck back the loose hairs behind her right ear before she starts.

"Well... I've sort of got... Um, I'll be out tonight, because I've, well... I've got a date."

August is squealing with joy before Mum's even got the whole word out, but so am I and so is Mum, and this feels like a coming-of-age movie.

***

If this is a movie, Mum's the main character, and Auggie and I are the supportive (although equally important) sidekicks. We help Mum get ready for her date, whisking her around the house in her desk chair from Wardrobe to Makeup to Hair.

On the ride over from Wardrobe to Makeup, Mum mentioned she's booked us a babysitter. I roll my eyes but don't kick up a fuss because this is a big night for her, but August and I smirk devilishly at each other behind her back in a way that makes me feel sorry for whichever poor sod is supposed to be 'babysitting' us tonight.

The evening creeps on as the night gets darker, and we're sat in Mum's bedroom on the final and most important phase of date preparation - unveiling and zhuzing the curls. The mystery man's picking her up in about 15 minutes, but that's all the information we can coax out of her.

August and I work in unison to remove the curlers from Mum's newly blown-out hair. Every so often, I glance up into the vanity mirror to catch a glimpse of Mum's face, and, although she's trying to hide it, she's beaming like she's going on her very first date. I'm tempted to tease her, but I won't; I want her to enjoy herself.

"Matthias!" August exclaims, placing one of the retrieved curling rods on the vanity top. "That cute bartender that kept giving you free drinks at your birthday dinner!"

This is her 5th guess in the past minute. Mum's little laugh into her hands tells me that this, like the last 4, isn't the right guess, but that doesn't stop Auggie from sticking her tongue through her teeth in that way she does when she's excited, like she can't hold back her glee.

"It's him, isn't it?" She nods eagerly.

"Aug, come on," I frown with mock seriousness. "Mum says we can't find out until he gets here, and we have to respect that."

"Thank you, Angie," Mum says with a bob of her head.

"No problem, Mummy. But, like... is it Matthias, though? He's a little on the young side, but we won't judge - I, for one, love the cougar thing for you."

"Evangeline!" Mum yells, but she can't help the splutter of laughter that softens her attempt at a stern expression.

I shrug cheekily. "Just sayin'."

At the perfect moment, the doorbell sounds, reverberating throughout the house with its resounding toll.

"Okay," I clasp my hands together, "I'll get the door, and then when I call, you bring Mum down for her big reveal, alright?"

"Aye aye, captain."

I race down the stairs to the front door, my heart pounding as though it's my date on the doorstep. When I grab hold of the cold gold doorknob, I take a deep breath and pull it towards me.

"Hi, I'm Evangeline, but you can call m-"

"Tangie."

From under messy ginger brows, my father's eyes stare into mine solemnly, squinting like the sun's too bright. I let go of the doorknob, stepping away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Some way to greet dear old dad, hey?" he jokes. "Who did you think it was gonna be?"

A hint of a smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth. When I remain straight-faced, it fades.

Looking at him, I don't see him. Not really.

I see the animal that emerged the last time I saw him, that struck the man I love until his blood stained his hand.

I see the Neanderthal that tried to dictate my life, my future, without once asking me what it was that I really wanted.

I see a man that looks like, but doesn't know me at all.

"What are you doing here?" I repeat, ignoring his question.

"I-"

"Ange, what's taking so long? We're ready!"

August comes leaping down the steps before I can think of an excuse to keep her upstairs, and the moment she sees Dad, she freezes at the bottom of the stairway with wide eyes.

"Da- what's going on?"

"Hiya, Freckles."

It's been so long since anyone called her that - since he called her that - that August's heart melts almost visibly. She starts towards him hesitantly, but I can see that her little fists are balled up, like she's physically holding in her eagerness.

As much as I want her to look at him, call him Dom and turn him away like she has in the past, I can see how much she's missed him. I guess sometimes a girl just needs her dad.

"Hi... What are you doing here?"

"Your father's looking after you girls tonight," comes Mum's voice from the top of the stairs.

I look back, we all do, following the voice, and it's like that awesome moment in the movies. Mum's under the low corridor lights in red heels, and a charming black dress that billows out from her waist and makes her look like a monarch. Her new curls still high, each strand resembles a fragile chocolate curl that ripples with the slightest tilt of her head. When she smiles, her cheeks colour and deepen the powdered blush on the apples of her cheeks.

"Um, yeah," Dad coughs, and when I look over at him, he tries to tear his eyes away from Mum before I catch him, but he isn't quick enough.

I look between them, at Mum's pretty, pleading face, and Dad's helpless, shaggy one.

"I'll be back in a sec," I mutter, propping the door open to let him in before I turn and head upstairs to sit on my bed. I hear Mum telling August to help him find somewhere to put his things, but it's not long before she pops her head round my door.

"I don't have anything to say to him, Mum," I grumble with folded arms, fully aware of how sulky and childish I look and sound.

"Maybe so, poppet," Mum says, perching herself beside me gently. "But he's got a few things he needs to say to you. And I think you should hear them."

I want to scoff 'oh please, why should I?' I don't say it, but I suspect my face does, because Mum balances her chin on my shoulder with puppy dog eyes.

"Please, Ange," she pouts. "For me?"

Ugh. She just had to say 'for me', didn't she?

I shake my head - she knows I've given in now.

"Fine, Mum. For you."

She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, and the sweet, and very familiar smell of shampoo wafts into my nose.

"Mum, did you use my shampoo?"

"Um, excuse me, I brought you into this world - I think I've earned the right to a drop of your jasmine and vanilla shampoo."

"Okay, okay," I concede. "I'll let you use more if you tell me who you're going out with."

I think I've caught her at just the right moment, because her small lips draw into a thin half-moon smile.

"Go and look," she says, nodding towards my large window. "Top of the street."

Puzzled, I stand and part the curtains. Parked a few houses away is the silver dad-mobile, with a bespectacled driver sat in the front seat.

"Walt's your date? When did you guys even start talking again?"

Shyly, Mum nods.

"After he went and got you from your dad's, he dropped me a message, and... I don't know. I suppose I realised that whatever his name is, whatever he did before he met us, he just feels... right. He feels like home."

Now it's my turn to throw my arms around her, squeezing her in a warm embrace.

She's right, and if it took her finding out about Eric for her to see who really made her happy, then maybe I'm gra-

Okay, I can't quite say I'm grateful for what happened. Not yet. In any case, I couldn't be happier that 'Walt' is back in our lives.

"Mum... can you tell him I said thank you? For helping me keep my head screwed on?"

"Of course I can, poppet."

"Thanks. Then tell him that I want you kids home by 11."