The next few months were a total blur. An amorphous series of interviews, television studios, glitzy cocktail parties with humourless businessmen talking to her breasts rather than her eyes and lonely hotel rooms. Swept along on a river of publicity. But instead of swimming, she was close to drowning. The only thing keeping her afloat was the thought of the money, and the life it would give her.

Ever since a child, sketching and painting had been the only world that Terri knew where the name-calling and beatings could not gain entry; the only world that welcomed her rather than judged her. Watching the colours swirl and dance across the canvas from the tip of the brush, her secrets and dreams fleshed out in a smile or a shadow. It made her feel free. Somehow whole, and necessary.

Everything had seemed so easy that morning. So straightforward. All she had to do was go to the agency and sign another contract for more paintings, and the money and new life would continue. But the doubts had set in long before bumping into Stuart outside her house that morning. Everything felt so irrelevant. So fake. In the six short months since the painting was first used, she had lost contact with all her old friends. Always too busy and promising to call back or meet later. The separation that hurt the most was not even physical. It felt like the children were becoming strangers; it was as if a wedge had been driven between them, and it was all her fault. And having been without them for so long, and fighting so hard to get Amy, Joanne and David back from their father, she was not going to let anything come between them ever again.

The driver was mercifully quiet now, more concerned at arguing with the debate show on the radio than starting a conversation. Sliding the window closed against the sudden chill, Terri found herself smiling at the memory of that morning's meeting with Stuart. They had worked together for almost a year at the supermarket; his constant smiles, and gentle willingness to please, endearing him to her straight away. Maybe it was deeper than that. More unconscious. To some of the others, through ignorance, intolerance, fear or perhaps just pure wickedness of spirit, it was ok to use terms like Mongoloid in front of him. To them, he was just someone with Down's Syndrome, to be mocked and teased or at worst treated as invisible. To Terri, he was a bright, charming, caring young man. Another tortured soul just wanting acceptance and affection, and nothing more.

They lunched together most days at the little café across the road from the supermarket. The jokes and cruel comments at their expense were always just loud enough to be heard. But it was Stuart that would tell Terri to ignore them and enjoy her food; the big brother that she always wanted as a child. Needed.

He had been waiting on her doorstep when Terri left for her taxi that morning. An embarrassed smile on his face, and a tiny bunch of flowers held out to her as if in apology. "These are for you, Terri. I've missed you. My mum said it would be ok."

Terri could see his mother parked just across the street, her expression one of happy resignation as she shrugged her shoulders in silent defeat. She took the flowers and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "I've missed you as well, Stuart. These are beautiful, thank you. I have to rush now, but I'll be in touch soon. You have my word on that." Hurrying to the waiting car, Terri could just see him check carefully for traffic before crossing to his mother and another day stacking shelves.

Her original intention had been to head straight home, but the driver had accepted Terri's request for a change of destination without comment. The manager welcomed her into his cramped, grey office; offering her a chair before seating himself behind his painfully tidy desk. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the famous Ms Dawson's company today?"

Terri ignored the expected sarcasm. "I would like my old job back, Mr Thompson. If that's possible."

He looked surprised at her request. A desire to question her etched on his pasty, flabby face, but not carried out. "Erm…yes. I suppose so. When can you start?"

Terri stood and reached across the desk, shaking his outstretched hand, smiling her best smile. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Mr Thompson."

The supermarket was almost empty when she reached the shop floor. Looking around, Terri started running, catching up with them as they were climbing into their car. "Mrs Ridgeway. Stuart", she called out, slightly breathless. They both looked up at her, surprised at seeing her there. "Would you both like to come to dinner at the weekend? Mrs Ridgeway's smile was as broad as Terri's. Stuart just grinned, burying his face in his chest to hide his blushes.

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