‘Good,’ he said. ‘Sorry I didn’t text last night when we got back – my phone’s only just dried out.’

‘Right,’ she replied, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t as if she’d expected him to text her, after all. Who cared about his journey home when it had meant him leaving her?

Then the conversation took a decidedly unexpected turn. ‘It felt weird waking up without you this morning,’ he went on breezily. ‘I miss you.’

It was lucky she was sitting down, because she forgot to breathe for a moment in her confusion. Why was he saying such a thing?

‘Are you still there?’ he asked, when she didn’t reply.

‘Yes,’ she croaked suspiciously. ‘Look, I . . . I don’t understand.’

There was a pause. ‘What do you mean?’

‘After yesterday . . . what you said.’ George didn’t respond and Em gritted her teeth in frustration. Oh, for heaven’s sake, did she have to spell it out? ‘About us splitting up.’

‘What?’

‘What you said about us not working out – I don’t understand why you’re ringing me now to tell me—’

‘Wait – I didn’t say anything about us not working out. I said the holiday hadn’t worked out, but I didn’t mean us. Did you really think . . .’

He stopped mid-sentence and her head reeled. She stared at her reflection wide-eyed. ‘You . . . oh. Oh,’ she said, blinking. So he hadn’t dumped her? This wasn’t the end? She found herself rewinding that whole scene yesterday and seeing it from a different angle. George, recognizing that things were difficult with Izzie, and giving the two of them space to work it out. George, being a responsible dad and decent human being, not wanting to put his ex through another long car journey.

‘Did you think I was breaking things off?’ he went on. ‘Because of one slightly eventful week in Cornwall?’ He sounded incredulous, she realized, as if such a thing had never occurred to him. He even sounded a bit hurt.

‘Well . . . yes! It hasn’t been the easiest few days,’ she said, thoughts still racing. ‘I mean, it wasn’t exactly the restful, fun time I promised you, was it, what with all the teen dramas and kids falling out and . . .’ And my daughter telling her friends she’d seduced you, and my ex-husband ringing up to bollock me loudly and proclaim you’re some kind of nonce. ‘It’s been a disaster! I just felt so mortified by everything that . . . well, I guess I just assumed the worst.’ She tailed off, feeling like an idiot. A catastrophizing idiot.

‘God, that’s not enough to put me off, Em! You’ll have to try a lot harder than that, you know,’ he said. ‘Besides, we had some really good days too. I enjoyed the holiday! Believe me, I’ve had worse.’