Frances slid the potatoes into the oven. She would make them nice and crisp, just the way Amber liked. She was looking forward to an evening with her daughter. They hadn’t had a good catch-up for a while. Amber was so busy these days with her job and young family. Evenings with just the two of them were rare.
Frances wanted to ask her daughter’s opinion. Amber was sensible and often gave good advice. And, Frances thought, she could really do with some of that at present. She felt stuck in a rut, and her artistic creativity seemed to have taken its leave. Usually, she couldn’t wait to start on the next project, but lately she hadn’t felt inspired to make a single brushstroke. Frances knew she needed to shake herself up but, for once, she was at a loss as to how to go about it.
‘This isn’t like you, Mum,’ Amber said later as they sipped a pre-dinner glass of wine. ‘You’re usually so focused.’
‘I seem to have come to a bit of
