She nodded and then looked down at the boys, both of whose faces were upturned, still talking, still desperate to get her attention. How close she had come to the edge, she thought, with a shudder. How distraught she had felt the last time she’d seen them. But they would fix things, like Mack said, together. They would reset the marble run, have everything running smoothly. Or at least functioning. ‘Have you two been really good for Daddy?’ she asked them.

‘Yes! I have!’

‘I’ve been really good. Haven’t I, Daddy?’

She smiled at their earnestness, their vigorous assurance of model behaviour, times two. ‘Oh, I am glad,’ she said. ‘Because do you know what I saw earlier? A really brilliant playground for good children. Would you like to see it?’

The whoops and shouts were reply enough, as was the bouncing about like blond pogo sticks. After a bit of tussling, because both Harry and Stanley wanted to hold her left hand and seemed prepared to fight to the death for the privilege, they set off towards the playground, all four of them in a line. Anyone glancing over at them would assume they were a normal family on holiday together, nothing more, nothing less. They’d be wrong, but nevertheless Olivia felt okay about hiding behind that interpretation for the time being. She and Mack could work everything else out later.

Chapter Thirty-Three

‘Hi,’ said Em, her hand clammy on the phone as she pressed it to her ear. She sank down onto the bed and pulled an anguished face at her reflection in the mirror, as a troupe of butterflies appeared for aerobatics practice in her stomach. She had gone through so many feelings since George’s dismissal of her the night before – devastation, self-recrimination, the acceptance that she was destined to be single forever now, and finally a smouldering sort of anger. Because – hello! – it was kind of rude just to dump someone like that, to say things hadn’t worked out, bye, as they were halfway out of the door with their ex. Not that she was particularly keen to explore in detail all her faults that had led him to this decision or anything – quite the opposite in fact – but you know. Manners cost nothing, right?

‘Hi,’ George said. Mind you, at least she got to hear that lovely low voice of his one last time, she thought with a pang. She was going to miss it afterwards, if this was the final time they ever spoke. ‘How are you?’

Ugh, and now they were having to be all polite and weird, as if they barely knew each other. How was she? Oh, just marvellous, thanks, George. Bloody peachy! Her hangover was still banging away in her head like a carpenter on a mission and she had barely slept a wink, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. ‘Fine, thanks,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘How are you?’