‘Well, he’s got the gift of the gab. And one of his friends specializes in traffic law.’

Tara’s stomach still gave a little ripple remembering Phil catching her eye while the instructor was writing up their admissions of guilt on the whiteboard. Late for work. Distracted by kids. On the phone. He’d winked, and whispered, ‘Third time here – slow learner, me!’ He was so Not Her Type, but as Phil leaned towards her, something about the intimacy of his smile, as if they were the only two people in the room, grabbed her in a way that overrode her brain entirely.

Justin had been a logical choice of boyfriend: sensible, qualified, ambitious. Phil was a physical shock, a magnificent, exhilarating, inevitable plunge over the waterfall. She’d told herself as they were flirting over tea that she wouldn’t give him her number. She’d told herself, driving away, that if he called, she definitely wouldn’t pick up. She’d told herself, on the way to their first date, that she’d leave after two drinks. And so on.

Oh God, thought Tara, seeing her lust-fuelled antics through someone else’s eyes. Surely having a womanizing father should have given me antibodies to men like Phil?

‘So what happened? You bonded over your shared love of speeding?’

The silent disaster movie was still playing out in front of Tara’s eyes. The flirt-fest first date. Then the second. Then the dirty weekend away. Phil’s jokes, his easy enjoyment of everything around him, the way his attention put her in a personal spotlight. ‘We just clicked,’ she said.

Tara gripped the wheel so hard she accidentally changed the radio station.

Keith changed it back. ‘Nothing wrong with that. Everyone likes a click now and again.’

‘It wasn’t ever meant to be … a relationship. I mean, Phil’s good fun, he makes me laugh, but I don’t want to end up like …’ Tara stopped herself, self-consciously. ‘It’s been going on too long to be this casual. He travels, he’s away a lot for work. We don’t really talk about the future. I think it’s better to draw a line.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Keith. ‘You deserve someone who plans their future with you in it.’

Tara stared at the road ahead, refusing to rise to the irony of that comment when they still had at least half an hour to go.

They drove on for another mile, and eventually Tara said, ‘Dad?’

‘What?’

‘Have you been on a speed awareness course?’

‘One or two.’

Of course he had.

‘I do a lot of motorway miles.’ He waved a hand. ‘It happens. I’m not a dangerous driver.’

That’s what Phil said, thought Tara. And everyone else on the course.

And me.

Maybe I’m like Mum AND Dad, she thought with a flash of despair.

‘Getting a bit close to that lorry, love,’ said Keith.