‘The incident the other day wasn’t a one-off, Dad. I know you’re struggling. Waitrose in Thame rang Helena and she paid them forty-three pounds. Mummy had been doing a little light pilfering again.’

He paused. ‘She gets forgetful. Forgets to pay.’

‘And had parked on a roundabout while she got her shopping? I thought we’d agreed she wouldn’t drive any more, Dad?’

‘She found the keys.’ He sounded weary. ‘I’d left them out, by mistake. And the police were terribly nice, Luce.’

I sighed as I stopped at some lights. ‘Yes, and they were nice when she filled up with petrol three times and drove away without paying.’

‘Nancy’s done that once, she told us.’

‘I doubt it. I expect she was being kind.’ Nancy was Mum’s very switched-on BF.

‘I think we all know Nance has many admirable traits, but that the milk of human kindness flows like glue.’

I smiled as the lights went green and I moved off.

‘My point is that you and Helena expect her to be exactly the same woman she was ten years ago, and of course she’s not. But she’s not barking.’

‘No, I get that – hang on, I’m just parking, I’m in the car.’ I’d pulled into a side road and was slotting the car into place, only a few yards from my destination. I took the phone from its holder and held it to my ear. ‘Of course she’s not the same woman, and we don’t expect her to be. We don’t expect her still to be – I don’t know, chairing the NSPCC, or organizing meals on wheels like she was a few years ago. But she has deteriorated quite quickly recently, and we are building up to a crisis here, Dad. And frankly, I have just had my own crisis. And much as I was desperately unhappy with Michael, I still need to lick my wounds; in peace and quiet, sure, but also, if possible, not entirely alone. Surrounded by familiar people I love. And not in that quiet, empty house surrounded by bad memories. Let’s be even-handed here. It is about you and Mum, but it’s also about me. I want to come home. Would very much like to, please. If you’ll have me.’

There was a silence on the end of the line. I glanced up at the estate agent’s window. As I activated my parking app, I could tell he was thinking about it.

‘And you’d live in the cottage?’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s a bloody mess.’

‘I know.’