"It's only for this week, I promise," I said to Sofia as I shoved a banana into my bag to eat on the way to school.

She picked Hisashi up from the floor where he'd been arranging the sparkly animals Bradley bought him into piles. My son howled for a second, then giggled as Sofia swung him around in the manner he loved.

"Don't worry. He's such a good boy."

"I could hire an extra pair of hands to help if you want?"

"Don't be silly." She waved me away. "I've had far worse jobs than this. At least you don't expect me to unblock the toilet at two in the morning like my employer before last did."

"That really happened?"

She wrinkled her dainty nose. "Yes, and it was disgusting. Mommy and Daddy went out to a party and came back drunk. There was a hell of a mess."

The sight of the car idling outside reminded me how late I was getting. "Well, I appreciate everything you're doing, but just let me know if it gets too much."

"Sure will." She held up Hisashi's hand. "Wave to Mama, sweetie."

He giggled and waggled his fingers, and although it pleased me that he was happy, it also saddened me that Sofia got to see him grow up more than I did.

I wasn't the only mother in that position, though. Thousands of parents the world over had to work while their children went to a nursery. I was luckier than most because my son had one-on-one care and I got to do something I loved all day.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself, but as Jansen herded Jude and me into the practice room at five o'clock, it was difficult to convince myself of the second part. Jude rolled his eyes as he took a seat and arranged his cello ready to play.

"From the top," Jansen instructed, focusing on Jude. "I hope you managed to do some sort of practice over the weekend."

"I performed this piece at a concert last year." Jude broke into a grin. "Plus I'm a natural genius."

Jansen didn't share his amusement. "Even virtuosos need to practise. None of them became great musicians through singing karaoke in second-rate bars."

"Oh, lighten up, man, the karaoke was a hoot. Maybe you should join us next time? A few drinks might make you less uptight."

"Alcohol impedes my playing ability." He leaned closer to Jude. "Are you still hungover?"

I might have missed my child, but I had no desire to replace him with two more. "Will the pair of you please stop arguing? The sooner we play, the sooner we can all go home."

At twenty-seven and twenty-six respectively, they should both have known better, but they turned their backs on each other and marched to separate sides of the piano. Why did I feel like a referee?

As Jude glared at Jansen and picked up his bow, the delicate notes of Mozart sounded, but rather than drifting in from an adjacent practice room, the sound came from my pocket.

"Excuse me a minute."

Now it was my turn to get the eye rolls.

I hurried into the corridor, suddenly worried. Mozart was the ringtone I'd assigned to Sofia, and right now, she should be settling down in front of the TV with Hisashi. What was wrong?

"Is everything okay?" I didn't bother with pleasantries.

"No. I mean, Hisashi's fine, but I've got a problem. Are you going to be late tonight?" I'd never heard Sofia sound anything but calm, but tonight her voice rose in panic.

"I'm still at school. What's happened?"

"My landlord just called to say my apartment building's been condemned. I've got this evening to move my stuff and find somewhere else to live before he shuts the place up permanently."

"Condemned? What for?"

She gave a hollow laugh. "Oh, pretty much everything. Fire code violations, a problem with the wiring, cockroaches."

Good thing she wasn't there to catch the look of horror on my face. "That's awful. How did you put up with it?"

"I was saving up for something better, and since I was only going there to sleep, it didn't matter too much."

"Have you got somewhere else to stay?"

"I thought I'd find a motel, then look for a new apartment at the weekend."

"Why don't you take one of my spare rooms?" Although I'd told Bradley I didn't want to live with a stranger, I considered Sofia a friend now, and after living with my family for a year, I had to admit to finding life in Boston a little more lonely than I'd anticipated, despite their daily phone calls.

"Are you serious?"

"The other bedrooms are only sitting empty. I'll come straight home to watch Hisashi while my driver takes you to collect your things."

"I don't know what to say, just thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise you'll barely notice I'm there."

As predicted, Jansen was less than impressed when I explained the situation. Jude simply shrugged and said, "These things happen," before packing his cello up faster than I'd imagined it to be possible and practically sprinting from the room.

"Same time tomorrow," Jansen yelled at his disappearing back.

"I can only apologise for this," I said as I sent a quick message to my driver asking him to come early.

"Sometimes, I think I'm the only person around here who's actually serious about a career in music," Jansen snapped before he too left the room.

Were my motivations wrong? I played the piano because I loved it, not for the money. Many times the only way I could express how I felt was through music. The simple sounds combined to form an outlet for the emotions that built up inside me, which was perhaps why I tended towards the darker pieces Okasan hated to hear. Maybe in time, I'd be able to play music I could smile about, but at the moment, I needed to release the pain of all I'd experienced in life so far.

At that point, each evening I'd spent playing, first with Brigitte and then with Jansen, had added to my frustrations rather than relieving them. I'd wanted my time at Holborn to represent a fresh start, but right now I was still bogged down in my past.

I passed Lincoln on my way to the exit, moving a polishing machine back and forth across the tiled floor of the atrium. He looked up as I approached, then checked his watch and plucked out his headphones.

"Early finish today?"

"Something came up."

"Everything okay?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know."

"Does it have anything to do with the two guys who left before you? One was jogging with a cello, and the other looked like he was plotting a murder."

"Probably." The pickup zone outside the glass doors was empty, and I figured my driver would be a few minutes, so I sank down onto an ornamental stone bench to wait for him. Boy, it was uncomfortable. "I can't work out what to do about the pair of them."

Lincoln abandoned his cleaning and sat on the other end of the bench, far enough away that I didn't feel the need to move. It was as if he instinctively understood my boundaries and didn't push them.

"In what way? I've heard the dark-haired guy talk to other people, and if the music thing doesn't work out for him, he could always get a job as a dictator."

I covered my mouth as I tried not to laugh. "School's important, I understand that, but we've only been here for a few weeks so far and he insists on practising our recital piece every evening until I can barely stay awake. Mind you, I can probably play the notes in my sleep now."

"What about the first guy?"

"He doesn't want to practise at all."

"And you're stuck in the middle, trying to keep both of them happy?"

"Exactly." Lincoln had put into words what I couldn't.

"And you're so busy thinking of them that you're miserable yourself."

"Yes. But I don't know how to change it. Jansen, the one with the dark hair, he doesn't listen to reason."

"Then don't try to reason with him. Set your boundaries and stick to them. It'll be uncomfortable at first, but better to be firm than let him run you into the ground."

Lincoln spoke so much sense, yet the thought of standing up for myself against Jansen's withering glare and sharp tongue filled me with dread.

"It's not always that easy," I whispered.

"Sometimes life is a journey through darkness, but as long as you have a spark inside, you can use it to light your way. Learn how to kindle it, and you'll burn bright."

"Are you a poet?"

"No, just a janitor."

Even though Lincoln's smile was as kind as his words, a tear ran down my cheek. His eyes radiated warmth as he reached into his pocket and passed me a handkerchief.

"Thank you. Thank you for the advice, and also for being so kind." Movement outside caught my eye, and a black Mercedes glided to a halt in front of the doors. "I have to go now."

As I handed Lincoln's handkerchief back, my fingertip touched his. The crackle of heat between us was unexpected, and I snatched my hand away, not through my usual revulsion but from surprise. Did he feel it too? His face registered nothing, just the steady calmness that seemed to be his default.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He tipped an imaginary hat. "Have a good evening, ma'am."