The man tugging on the straps of her harness to check they were secure considered her question for a moment. He was in his mid-thirties, she guessed, tall and rangy, with an infectious enthusiasm. ‘Absolutely not. You’re going to have the best and most exciting ten minutes of your life. Or at least this week,’ he amended, with a wink.

Amelia seemed gleeful about her mother’s shortcomings. ‘Mum, you’re such a wuss,’ she said, loud enough for the queuing people behind them to hear.

Here they were, on a timber platform 150 feet high up in a forest, just like the dream Maggie had had the other night, only this time there was a dual zip-line and she and Amelia were about to take the plunge together, side-by-side. Elsewhere at the activity centre you could try water sports, a terrifying-looking giant swing and go-karting. None of these things sounded remotely sensible or unscary to Maggie, but Amelia had actually squealed in delight upon hearing where they would be spending the rest of the day. ‘Oh my God, amazing! Thanks, Mum,’ she had cried, apparently ecstatic at the prospect of throwing herself off cliffs in the name of fun.

Following their separation, today felt very much like a new start. They’d stopped at a small Devon pizzeria en route, to share thickly cheesed pizza and far too many side dishes – ‘Whatever you want,’ Maggie had said, feeling generous with happiness. There Amelia had given a lengthier account of her stay, with topics ranging from the disgustingness of Celeste’s BO to Will’s taste in music (as cheesy as the pizza, apparently), but also how the two of them planned to message each other a single photo encapsulating their week every Sunday night from here on in. A digital father–daughter exchange.

‘I love that idea,’ Maggie said in delight. ‘What a great way to get to know each other.’

‘I know! His challenge to me, he said,’ Amelia replied through a mouthful of garlic bread. ‘I think it’ll be quite cool, trying to sum up my news in one image each time. I mean, we are going to chat as well,’ she went on. ‘We’re not going to be, like, silent weirdos, communicating only by photos or anything. He said he would try and come to my parents’ evening and everything this year. And when I said I was going to audition for the choir, he was like, “Right, I’m coming to see any concerts you’re in then, try and stop me.” ’ She licked her fingers and Maggie noticed her small, proud smile. ‘Which is kind of nice. Although the music probably won’t be tragic enough for his taste, so . . .’