‘He was the best.’ Keith looked, if not on the verge of tears, then on the verge of deep thoughts. ‘So, what – shall I meet you here later this afternoon? How long do you need?’

Tara had a sudden ‘edge of the diving board’ lurch in her stomach. ‘I suppose … long enough to be clear, but not long enough to talk myself out of it. How long do you need?’

‘I’ll fit in with you.’

She closed her eyes. This was one of the very worst ideas she’d ever had. If not the worst. Everything her dad touched instantly became a million times more emotionally stressful.

‘Just call me when you’re done,’ said Keith. ‘Now go and get on with it.’

‘Right,’ said Tara, and opened the door without looking back.

Phil was sitting in the cafe, with a coffee and a tiny green cake, talking intently on his phone. When Tara appeared he ended the call immediately, and got up as she pulled out a chair.

‘Hello, Taz.’ He smiled, making no secret of his approving up-and-down glance. ‘I’ve missed you.’ The fact he didn’t add ‘you beautiful creature’ somehow underlined his sincerity.

Tara raked Phil’s appearance for clues as to where he’d been for the last month. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced, and there were some faint shadows under his eyes. But his thick honey-blond hair was as she remembered it, pushed back off his handsome face in that slightly eighties way. If anything, he looked a bit sexier. Thinner, and sexier.

Tara had nursed some theories: best case, on a lucrative-if-shady freelance contract overseas. Worst case, on honeymoon. Somewhere in between, hospital, but for something embarrassing like a minor nose job.

He reached his hands across the table, his blue eyes locking with hers. ‘Do you want to move this conversation upstairs?’ he murmured. ‘I have some bedroom requirements to discuss.’

A contrary desire tugged in the pit of Tara’s stomach and she placed the bag of Phil’s stuff on the table before he could get into his stride.

‘Phil, this isn’t working for me any more.’ She steeled herself. ‘Thanks for the flowers that were meant for your wife, but you can go back to her now – and tell her to leave me alone.’ It was what she’d planned to say when she was lying awake in the middle of the night: go in there with a depth charge and see what floated to the surface.

He looked momentarily shocked, an expression Tara had never seen on Phil before. It made him look a bit bovine. ‘Zoe’s been calling you?’

Tara’s heart sank. ‘So you do have a wife.’

‘Well, she’s not technically my wife.’

‘You are such a cliché.’

‘It’s not what it sounds like, I promise …’

‘And so is that. Got any more? Does she not understand you? Are you staying together for the kids?’