I looked at my son, his mouth sagging open, looking smaller than he really was, vulnerable. And I remembered how many times I had seen that vulnerable look, as a baby, as a toddler, small boy, teenager, student. He’d always looked as if he needed someone to sweep him up in their arms, to tell him things would be all right. It was a role I had always been happy to take on.

I was forcibly reminded, once again, how much I love my son.

I’d left the mobile in the kitchen, so fortunately it didn’t wake Ben when it rang. I went through and answered. It was Alexandra Richards.

‘Just wanted to say, nice to see you yesterday. Thanks for coming all the way over.’

‘No problem. Good to see you too. And to meet Walt,’ I added mendaciously.

‘Yes. He’s quite something, isn’t he?’

I could think of no suitable answer to that, so I didn’t offer one.

‘I was just thinking, Ellen, there was something I forgot to tell you …’

‘Oh?’

‘… about the night Ingrid died.’

‘Right.’

‘Walt said I ought to tell you about it.’

‘Fine.’

‘And I do listen to what he says. He’s full of good sense, you know.’ Again, I had nothing to add, as Alexandra went on, ‘I’m so lucky to have met him. I’d really given up hopes of anything ever happening on the romantic front.’

If I didn’t say anything this time, it might sound as though I was endorsing her view of her unattractiveness. So, I managed to come up with, ‘I’m so glad that you found each other.’ Which is not the sort of cheesy remark I usually make.

Moving on, ‘Anyway, Alexandra, what was it you were going to tell me?’

‘All right. Well, the night Ingrid died, I said that I went to see her earlier in the evening.’

‘Yes.’

‘And I was probably with her about an hour.’

‘Fine.’

‘And I probably gave you the impression that I went home to Hastings straight after that.’

‘I’m not sure you actually said it but that’s what I’d assumed, yes.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

‘Go straight home?’

‘No.’

When there’s an obvious question to ask, I ask it. ‘So, what did you do?’

‘I stayed in my car, parked in Brunswick Square.’

‘Why?’

‘I was confused. I was always confused after I saw Ingrid. Here was this person who was my mother, to whom I owed a kind of duty of care, and yet I never knew whether she really cared for me at all. And the confusion was worse that day.’

‘Why? What had made it worse?’

‘It had been worse ever since Walt and I got together.’

‘Ah. Was that because you hadn’t told him of Ingrid’s existence?’

‘How do you know I hadn’t?’

‘Walt told me yesterday, while you were in the kitchen getting drinks.’

‘I see. Once she was dead, I felt I could tell him. Up until then I didn’t know. Our relationship was so new and fragile, I hardly dared believe it was happening. I wondered whether I could keep Walt in complete ignorance that I had a mother alive. I was afraid he might be scared off if he found out I was the daughter of a monster like that.’