For a while she enjoyed her change of lifestyle. She worked extremely hard doing up her house, making friends and making it clear to the world that she didn’t want a man, thank you, ever. Now, nearly two years on, her house was decorated and full of lodgers, and the lodgers were driving her mad.

Mostly, she enjoyed the kids. She was easygoing, didn’t really mind hanging people’s washing out, or taking it in if it was raining. And only a real cow could object to ironing something when someone was ‘really, really late’ and desperate for a white blouse, especially if it was ‘for work’.

But she was only thirty-five and was surrogate mother to people far too old to be her children. Those people, often away from home for the first time, were only too glad to find such a kindly, helpful person to listen to their problems and sew on their buttons in an emergency. If she occasionally nagged them about not leaving their dirty crockery all over the house, they mostly ignored her. At least she didn’t grill them about who they were going out with.

Thea felt she had gone from potentially successful photojournalist to mother of teenagers too quickly. She should have had a life in between. But hindsight is a perfect science and when she had arrived down from London, exhausted and emotionally bruised, ‘a life’ was the last thing she wanted. She had wanted retirement, order and to wake up every morning without having to wonder which town her hotel room was in. She no longer wished to spend evenings fighting off advances from photographers who had drunk their mini-bars dry and wanted to take advantage of the double bed.

She hadn’t intended to give up on men completely – at least, not for ever. She knew perfectly well that while Conrad was a shit, a lot of men were honourable and trustworthy. She had even gone out with a few of them since she’d moved out of London. It was a shame that these cardinal virtues seemed to go hand in hand with dullness and a love of obscure classical music.

Much to Petal’s dismay, she had ended her relationship with one such just recently. Petal had been horrified: ‘But Thea, I know he’s not very exciting, but he’s someone and you shouldn’t finish with one boy – I mean, man – before you’ve got another one. Otherwise you’re on your own, manless and dateless! I mean, derr! How sad are you?’

Thea bit back a smile at Petal’s indignation. ‘I thought I’d play the field, like the women on Sex and the City.’ This particular American entertainment was one of Petal’s favourites.

‘Thea! You’re not like those women! You couldn’t screw around like they do!’