I enjoyed writing one of my latest protagonists, Victoria, in my fourth book, Everything Has Changed. She’s been in a car accident and ‘lost’ six years of her life due to amnesia. When she wakes up in hospital, she remembers her children as adorable 10-year-old twins. They’re not. They are 16 and sulky. And her marriage is dangling by a thread.

Last thing she remembers is that she was a fun-loving mum. As she says, ‘where had the chaotic, popcorn-in-her-bra mum gone?’ Some parts of the book poke fun at who she’s become, other sections are more reflective.  I posed the question: what would it be like to be catapulted into ‘your’ future with no warning. Especially if you didn’t like how the ‘future’ was looking – and moreover, what if you didn’t like your new self very much? And (let’s turn up the heat) what if your husband didn’t like you. This is a scene just before a family gathering. Victoria is remembering a holiday in Greece and how her husband James used to feel about her. Will he ever feel like this again?

Victoria clasped the brooch tightly in her fist. The pin at the edge pierced her skin and she flinched. She was setting the table in the kitchen. James had given her the brooch when they were on holiday in Greece. Since she’d found those photos and that list, more had come back to her. ‘It’s beautiful like you’. It was a white pebble polished till it gleamed and there were tiny pearls surrounding it. She remembered the beach, Izzy and Jake had run into the waves and then come out and rolled in the sand. They must have been about five. And then James, holding a squealing twin under each arm, armbands bulging out the sides as he plunged into the water. She’d watched, her sarong gently flapping across her legs. There were flashes of vivid memory.

Life had been uncomplicated, hadn’t it? They loved each other. James was trying for a promotion and they were trying for another baby – or were they? It was a bit fuzzy. And then what? Had all the wet towels on the floor, the unanswered text messages, the late hours at the office, the headache of bringing up twins with two sets of everything from homework to nits – had that all seeped into the fibre of their marriage like rain soaking through a faulty roof, until the rot had set in?

Not us, she’d thought. The twins will never tell a counsellor, ‘Mummy and Daddy have fallen out of love.’ Or will they?

Victoria moved round the table and mechanically placed knives and forks opposite one another. The napkins, the salt and pepper, it was all new to her. Household items were a surprise every time she opened the cupboard.

‘You’re wearing the brooch?’

She abruptly turned round as James walked towards her carrying a dish of salad.  ‘Yes.’

He glanced at it and she stared at his jaw, at his shirt collar and tried to remember how many times she might have lain against the crook of his neck, crying sometimes, laughing perhaps, sharing a secret? Where had his passion for her gone? The spark? She could feel it, she couldn’t miss it, fizzing up inside her. What about him? She studied his mouth. It was moving. ‘Where do you want these?’ He stared at her.

Find out more about Kendra and her other books on Facebook at Kendra Smith Author and on Twitter @KendraAuthor