‘Well I still think whoever made that needs to do the psychopath test. How could you just “channel” when something needs you and you have the power to help it? Does your integrity only stretch as far as your sense of what’s right?’

She shrugs, and then goes to the kitchen to make more drinks.

When she comes back, she stands in front of the painting of herself and says: ‘Do you think I still look like that?’

‘Mum, that painting was done twenty years ago.’

‘I felt old then. You were fifteen.’

‘I remember.’

‘I think I stopped at twenty-five, in my mind. I think my personality set at twenty-five and I’ve never got a day older. That’s why the outside catches me by surprise sometimes. I don’t feel like I look.’

‘You look great.’

‘You’re a love.’ She sits down, still looking at the painting. ‘So,’ she says, ‘how are you doing?’

‘Fine.’

We look at each other. As always during these mandatory catch-ups, I imagine her thinking of my life as a museum through which she is being selectively tour-guided by me. What’s in that room? Can’t go in there, Ma. What about that one? Sorry, not part of the tour.

‘Still working at that womany website?’

‘Yep.’

She sips her drink and says, ‘And you’re … still in touch with Art?’

‘Of course. It’s perfectly amicable. We speak regularly. Emails, mostly.’

‘Still lovely long emails like before? I loved hearing about those.’

‘Yeah.’

She waits.

‘So what happened? I haven’t seen you since and it’s – well, it’s such a shock, darling.’

‘We wanted different things.’

She sighs. ‘Have you considered the fact that sometimes relationships need work, darling?’

I stare at her. ‘I’ve had longer relationships than you.’

‘Have you considered that your fertility halves at the age of thirty-five?’

I look surprised. ‘Does it? Surely not. I thought women’s fertility INCREASED the older they got, no? Tell me more.’

She laughs. ‘You know you can tell me anything.’

I laugh.

‘What happened exactly? I’m trying to process it. He meant something to me, too.’

‘Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’

‘Whatever you want, darling.’

‘What did you get up to today?’

‘I just called in on a few old London friends.’

‘Who?’

‘You won’t know them. Before your time.’

She lived in London, a few years before I was born. She had a few small parts in the West End and almost got a big break. Then she met my father. Another actor? I asked her, hopeful. No, she said. That would have been even worse. She said she did his tarot cards the night they slept together.

And what did they tell you?

Well, I wasn’t really paying attention …

‘And I brought some champagne. Shall we open it?’

‘What for?’

‘Our new chapter.’