‘There’s nothing to stop you making your own cake, Toby,’ she said, wondering how Ben would feel about it. ‘I could write down a recipe for you. If Ben’s not keen on clearing up the mess, you could do it when you’ve next got a babysitter, if she liked cooking too.’ It would be a lot more sensible than watching sentimental films and picking up unsuitable language, she added silently.

‘It’s not just the cakes. It’s the being there when I come home from school. My friend’s mum is always there at home time. It’s cool!’

‘It probably is, but lots and lots of mothers work. They have to –’

‘I want you to be my mother … stepmother.’

Thea couldn’t decide whether to be angry, sympathetic, or sad. She aimed for something in between all three. ‘Toby!’

‘But I would! You’re cool. I want to have a mum who cooks.’

It would have been far more flattering if Toby had said he wanted a mum who was a raving sex symbol but, she supposed, even more complicated. ‘But I don’t cook all the time,’ she explained. ‘Lots of times I just do boiled eggs.’ She took another bite of hers. ‘And lots of people would like to have a mother who was beautiful and had a glamorous job, who took you to nice places, stuff like that.’ As she knew very little about Toby’s mother it was hard for her to stress her good points, but she did her best.

‘But I want a motherly mother as well.’

Exasperation was creeping in. ‘That’s greedy. And lovey, even if you had me as a stepmother, it wouldn’t all be cooking pizzas and chocolate cake. It would mostly be all “do your homework” and “have you brushed your teeth?". I may not know much about parenting, but I do watch Neighbours.’ Trying to divert him a little, she added. ‘What does it mean when they say “you’re grounded"?’

‘It means you can’t go out.’

‘Well, there you go. That’s what sort of a stepmother I’d be, learning how to do it from Australian soap operas.’

‘Why are they called “soap operas"?’

‘It’s a long story. Years and years ago, in America…’

But Toby had lost interest. Thea heard a muffled conversation going on in the background. The babysitter doing her duty at last and putting him to bed. ‘Donna says,’ said Toby loudly, ‘the important thing is, do you like my dad?’

Thea was tired. She’d done her best and, with half an ounce of luck, Toby wouldn’t read anything into it. She sighed. ‘Yes, Toby. I like your dad. He’s a very nice kind man who’s helped me a lot.’ Hoping this sounded suitably platonic, she tried to end the call, but heard more whispering.

‘Do you like him “like that"?’