By the time she gets to the top floor she is out of breath, but Baxter is not troubled in the slightest. The door to the flat is open, and as she goes in, she can see that a mountain of laundry is stacked up on the sofa in the living room. Fiona is attempting to pair up school socks, holding them up to the light in an attempt to work out the difference between newish black and three-months-old-washed-a-dozen-times black.

‘I’m just about finished, I think.’ Fiona abandons the task with relief. ‘Would you like wine or something soft with your pizza?’

‘Both,’ replies Tess, ‘but I’ll start with a can of that San Pellegrino you’ve always got in the fridge, and a bowl of water for Baxter.’

Fiona scoops up the bundles of paired socks. ‘I’ll be through as soon as I’ve put these away.’

In the kitchen there is another heap of clean clothes lying beside the dryer, waiting to be ironed into submission, and there’s a higgledy-piggledy stack of library books on the worktop next to the fruit bowl. The bananas look well past their best.

Tess exhales slowly. She is needed.

‘I hate laundry. Have I mentioned that before?’ Fiona says as she comes into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and hands over a chilled can. ‘Tell me whatever you want to tell me. No pressure. Take your time.’

‘OK.’ Tess sits down at the table and studies the pattern on the red gingham tablecloth. She counts out a nine-square grid and gets all the way to eighty-one before she replies. ‘Right. Well, it’s over. Patrick and me. It’s finished.’

Fiona wonders how many times she has seen clients to whom this has happened. How many separation agreements and divorces and endings. Too many. But it’s what she does. Family law for people who don’t want to be families any more. And she’s good at it. There’s some satisfaction in that. She sits down opposite Tess. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘He’s in Chicago. He went to New York two weeks ago and then on to Chicago and he’s due back on Friday, a week from now.’

‘Is he seeing someone else?’

Tess tugs at the ring-pull and a hiss of gas escapes from the can. ‘He’s been lying to me.’

‘Why don’t you start from the beginning, if you’re able to?’