"No, but I expected some considered thought and talk." His eyes were steady. Mine were wild, I knew. And my pulse was up again. I was out of control and I knew it. Peter also knew, and he knew why.

“Mum, I know this is hard. I know the single-Mum stuff. You feel you've worked for this, too, but I'm not throwing anything away. And Janey will get me an internship, she says, that will look good on my CV. Not just a year bumming about, but a year working properly."

"Whereabouts?"

"Well, publishing, obviously. And, to start with, where she is, but she doesn't know empirically. Needs to make some enquiries.”

Janey. Blasted Janey. Who I'd liked so much. How could she?

"I saw you both leaving the beach party the other night."

"I know, you said."

"Where did you go?"

"Into town. To a club.”

"What — just the two of you?"

"Yes, just the two of us, Mum."

"What — a dancing-type club?"

"No, a pottery-type club."

I stared. "Peter, she's in her thirties!"

"I know. Thirty-six."

"And you're seventeen!"

“So? Emmanuel Macron was fifteen. Brigitte was forty."

I regarded him in horror. "Are you and Janey having an affair?"

"Why would it be an affair? Neither of us is married."

"You know what I mean!" My temperature was rising.

"Are you having sex?"

“That really is none of your business."

"Peter!"

He drained his glass. Got to his feet. "Well, this has been interesting." His face was pale. He looked angry. Peter and I had never rowed like this. Not even in the so-called troublesome early teenage years, not ever. My brain was spiraling but I nevertheless caught it into halt. For a moment. I tried a different tack.

"Peter, I can see how this all looks very rosy and romantic, a seminal moment in your life. But trust me, in a few years’ time you'll look back at it as a summer romance – albeit a highly inappropriate one – and—"

“Shut up, Mum!” He glared at me fiercely. I stared, horrified. That had never been said. "I love her, all right? Is that what you want to hear? I love her. Satisfied?" His eyes blazed into mine. Then he strode out, through the French windows, straight through the house, and slammed the front door hard behind him.

Chapter 21