"I'm sorry, Mummy. I really am."

Leah made no reply; she didn't trust herself to speak. Mouth set firmly in a narrow line, she kept her eyes determinedly on the road ahead. Forcing herself to concentrate on something else was the only thing preventing a complete and utter meltdown of never-before-seen proportions.

Molly thought she was angry with her; if only Leah was capable of expressing herself right now, she would be able to tell her daughter just how wrong she was. No, the only person to blame for this was Leah herself. She was the one who had completely and utterly failed her daughter, despite desperately trying to do right by her all these years. How could she let it all have gone so horribly wrong?

"Dammit!"

Completely wrapped up in her own thoughts, Leah only noticed the car pulling out in front of her at the very last second, forcing her to slam hard on the break. Panting hard, she glanced in the rear view mirror to see a pair of frightened eyes blinking back at her, and found her anger melting away instantly. Pull yourself together, Leah told herself firmly. If she didn't manage to get a hold of her wandering thoughts right now, she'd end up getting them both killed.

Through some miracle the remainder of the journey passed without event, and within five minutes Leah was pulling into their sloping driveway, desperate to escape the confined silence of the car. Molly seemed to share this view; no sooner had Leah killed the ignition than her daughter had unclipped her seatbelt and hopped out, scurrying down the driveway without a backwards glance. Leah followed shortly behind, the forlorn figure in the doorway reminding herself very much of a disgraced puppy with its tail between its legs.

Once inside, Molly made a desperate break for her bedroom – but Leah wasn't having any of it.

"Not so fast, Molly – I think we need to discuss some things," she told her daughter – the first words she'd spoken to her since receiving the phone call from school during her lunch break.

Molly visibly cringed, before shuffling slowly around to face Leah, refusing to meet her gaze.

"I am so incredibly disappointed in you, Molly."

Leah hated herself for saying those words, knowing herself how much they stung to hear as a child. Facing a parent's disappointment was ten times worse than a parent's wrath – but on this occasion, disappointment thoroughly summed up what Leah felt.

Molly made no reply; the living room was completely silent but for the soft drip of a tear landing on the carpet.

The sound completely broke Leah's heart, and she had half a mind to abandon all attempt at telling Molly off – but that wouldn't fix anything, really. Molly's behaviour was simply unacceptable, and she had to learn that it couldn't happen again.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Leah prompted.

For a few moments it seemed Molly wouldn't speak, but eventually, she gave an anxious gulp.

"I didn't mean to do it, Mummy," she stuttered, "but Bella said nasty things to me, and made me really angry."

"That's no excuse, Molly!" cried Leah. "There is never an excuse for violent behaviour. You could have done the poor girl a serious injury; she's only a tiny thing!"

"I'm a little girl, too..."

"You're a strong girl who has martial arts training – although you seemed to forget all the tenets of Tae Kwon Do today. Where was your respect, and courtesy, when you lashed out at Bella today? Where was your self-control? You've not only let down me, but you have let down Master Hurst as well."

This, finally, seemed to get through to Molly. It caused a momentary stab of pain to realise Molly cared more about disobeying the Tae Kwon Do instructor than her own mother, but Leah was just relieved to finally be getting through to her. Nothing else had seemed to so far; not even the stern words of the teachers who had managed to pull Molly away from the other girl on the playground. It had been the most mortifying experience of Leah's life, arriving at the school to collect Molly only to find that her daughter seemed not the slightest bit remorseful for what she'd done. Leah would never be able to look those teachers in the eye again.

"You forgot everything it means to be a student of Tae Kwon Do," said Leah, an idea occurring to her all of a sudden. "And until you learn not to abuse the skills you learn in class; I think you had better not train – which means no grading on Sunday."

The effect on Molly was instantaneous. Her face fell faster than it had on her birthday when no card from Neil had arrived, as she wordlessly turned her back on Leah and stormed upstairs. Seeing Molly's pain was utterly unbearable, but Leah had to remain firm; until Molly learned to control her temper, it simply wasn't safe to let her loose in the dojang. Leah's stomach turned at the thought of her hurting one of the other children – what if she lashed out at Cameron, or, God forbid, little Rosie? The thought was unbearable.

More unbearable still was the thought that Leah had managed to raise a child who believed such behaviour to be acceptable. To think that all these years she'd believed herself to be a good parent; believed that she was doing the right thing. Leah had undoubtedly tried her best – there was nothing she had worked at harder than being a good mother – yet now, nine years on, came the crushing realisation that her best had simply not been good enough.

The mobile in Leah's pocket buzzed suddenly with an incoming call, but she ignored it, flopping onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh. She knew who it was going to be – Tristan had been calling pretty much incessantly since the abrupt end to their date on Saturday – but the past two days had, if anything, made Leah even less willing to talk to him. A cowardly bubble of relief passed through her as Leah realised Molly's punishment meant the inevitable awkward meeting with Tristan would be postponed at least another week.

It would never have worked out with Tristan – Leah realised that now. And it was better, she reminded herself, for it to have happened this way, before they took things any further. Better for it to have ended now, before either of them could get hurt...

Who was she kidding?

It hurt like hell.

A failed parent was no good for someone like him. While she had single-handedly allowed her daughter's life to fall apart over a slightly messy divorce, Tristan had somehow managed to guide Cameron and Rosie through perhaps the most excruciating ordeal a child could ever have to face, all the while maintaining a sense of normality in their lives, remaining upbeat and positive for their sakes.

It was better for things to have ended now; before Tristan found out the truth about what a failure she was. The way he'd smiled at her, and spoken with such confidence about her parenting abilities, had Leah positively squirming with shame.

Leah couldn't ever remember feeling so weary with life. Slumped alone on the sofa, unaware of the darkness creeping into the living room as the weak March sun disappeared from view, she had never felt less sure of herself. All she wanted was a soft, warm pair of arms to wrap themselves around her; a gentle, lilting voice to soothe her and tell her everything would be alright.

She wanted Tristan – but she could never have him.

And that just about broke Leah's heart.