Toby, she noticed, didn’t query the weekend meeting time. He shrugged and helped himself to a croissant from the pile Molly had been too excited to eat earlier. Maybe 9 a.m. Saturday meetings were normal in fancy hotel world. Or, added a cynical voice in her head, did Toby know something she didn’t? Like this mysterious Niamh?

‘So what’s the birthday-girl timetable?’ Toby asked. ‘I’m thinking photo shoot, makeover …?’

‘I thought we’d have our tea at about half three, with presents?’

‘And Dad will be back by then?’ Molly asked.

‘Yes. Definitely. And in the meantime, I’ve got some special pottery we can paint!’

‘Yay!’ Molly smiled her sunny smile, but Tara thought she could detect a glimmer of cloud behind her blue eyes.

I sound like Mum, she thought, jollying up the mood without really believing in it. That made her suddenly quite sad.

The summer had already been warm, and as August went on, the temperature had been steadily climbing each day. When Keith returned just after one, it was almost too hot to sit outside in the direct sun, and Tara put up the big umbrella on the picnic table so Molly wouldn’t get burned.

‘Must make you feel at home!’ joked Keith, giving Toby a big manly bear hug, which Toby returned, plus a side of back slapping.

Tara watched them from the kitchen counter, where she was buttering thin slices of bread for cucumber sandwiches. It had been fine when it was just her and Toby – and Molly – but Keith’s return had tipped an invisible balance again.

She knew she was being negative, but she resented the way Toby and Dad were so relaxed with each other. They’d obviously pushed through the awkward conversations months back, and were two stages ahead of her. Plus they didn’t have the complicated matter of loyalty to Ruth to get in the way of fun, like she did. And they were already so alike, charming and confident, letting the good-natured joshing wash over each other.

Skinny legs. FFS. It was like being thirteen again. For the last ten years, Tara’s long slender legs had been her best feature.

Molly was observing them with the same hungry expression, her eyes darting between her dad and Toby as if they were the most fascinating television programme ever. Both men were on top form, joking and playing with an excited Lloyd, including Molly in their conversation, chatting about America and the weather and restaurants, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for the four of them to be there.

At least Molly’s enjoying it, Tara reminded herself. This is one hundred per cent more family than she’s had up till now. Focus on that. Not what you lost.

But it was hard, in her mother’s house, not to think of Ruth and what she had to let go.