Zoe swallowed. “He was talking to someone on the phone. And the moment he saw me he turned like a weird puce color and ended the call, and he told me off for creeping up on him. But I honestly wasn’t. I just wanted a drink. And if he hadn’t acted all guilty I probably wouldn’t even have noticed.”

Milly’s mouth was dry. “When was this?”

“I don’t know. But before we went to LA to stay with Aunt Nicole. And then I saw him on the balcony arguing with Aunt Nicole, and I guessed what might be going on. But I didn’t know exactly. And I didn’t know what to do. Or say. And last night you were so mad at Nicole that she hadn’t told you—”

“Oh, sweetheart, no, that’s not true. It was more complicated than that. And I’m so, so sorry you were put in that position.” Milly put the biscuits in with the groceries and put the bag down on the ground. Then she held out her arms, and Zoe walked straight into them. “I wish you’d told me. Not for me, but for you.”

Zoe clung to her. “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I suppose a part of me hoped that if I ignored it, it might go away.”

Milly stroked Zoe’s hair. Her eyes were stinging. “That was a big thing to have to carry, and next time you’re worried about anything at all, you’re to tell me and we’ll share it. That’s what family does.” She held her daughter tightly, and then there was a hammering at the window. “That’s Nanna Peg.”

“She wants her chocolate biscuits.” Zoe gave a tearful laugh and pulled away. “You’re not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you. I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. I feel terrible about all of it. The divorce. Moving house . . .” She couldn’t believe they were having such an important conversation outdoors next to the car, clutching bags of shopping and risking sunstroke.

“Don’t feel bad. None of it is your fault. And I love the boathouse.” Zoe picked up the bag. “And Dad leaving was difficult, but I’m getting used to it. Avery has tried really hard to make me feel at home there, which can’t be easy because she doesn’t have kids or anything. She has started buying food she knows I like, even though she doesn’t eat it herself.” She said it tentatively, as if it was something she wasn’t sure her mother would want to know, and Milly realized how tough it must have felt for her.

“I’m glad you like her, I really am. It’s a relief to me.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. And if your dad is happy with her, then I think that’s good too.”