‘I know what you mean,’ Maggie said. ‘I would be the same. You just want to make things okay for them, don’t you? To have their worlds turn a little more smoothly.’ She gulped, unable to prevent her next words pouring out. ‘It’s when they won’t let you do that – when they push you away – that it’s really hurtful. In my experience.’ She stopped and awkwardness took hold of her. Why did she keep saying such personal things? Maybe it was Em’s own openness, or the fact that this was the first conversation she’d had all day. Either way, she should really get a grip on herself.

Sure enough, Em shot her a quizzical look. ‘Tell me about your daughter, distract me,’ she said as they continued on towards the town centre. ‘Jack mentioned she’d gone away – I forgot in all the panic. She’s in Devon, did you say?’

‘Yes.’ Maggie swallowed. ‘She’s gone to stay with her dad, who’s practically never met her. It’s all been a bit of a drama in our house as well, to be honest—’ She broke off, spotting a cyclist ahead. ‘That’s not her, is it?’

‘Nope,’ said Em with a sigh.

These girls of theirs, thought Maggie as they overtook the cyclist and carried on. These girls who kept squirming away from their mothers. Had they any idea how much heartache they caused? She glanced down at her handbag, at the silent phone that she could see poking out of the top. Still no reply to her messages then. Oh, Amelia, she thought with a pang. What’s happening? Are you all right? Tell me he’s being nice to you!

Her feelings got the better of her again, and she found herself blurting out a potted version of events to Em – so much for getting a grip on herself. Her fears, her hurt, out they tumbled into the confined space of the car. For God’s sake, Mum, have some self-respect, she imagined Amelia saying, with one of her withering glares.

Em let out a whistle as Maggie drew to a close. They had reached Falmouth by now, still without any glimpse of Izzie, and she was circling around, trying to find somewhere to park. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘I thought my ex-husband was a cock, but I’ve got to say, yours sounds—’ Then she broke off and put a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. No offence.’

‘No, you can say it. Whatever it is, I’ll agree. I hate him, you know. I really do. He’s a . . . a tosser. A grade-A tosser. He started trying to apologize on the doorstep to me, can you believe. Too late, mate. Too bloody late!’ Her voice was shaking. Calm down, Maggie. Stop!