‘So you’ve left? What’s your next step?’ he asked, his stomach shifting uneasily. Her artificiality with the girls and the surprise element left him in no doubt the visit wasn’t simply the result of maternal yearnings.

She uttered a manufactured laugh. ‘I’m going to sort myself out. No one knows me better than me, after all – my body and mind, my strengths and weaknesses. I know where to get support rather than having “changes” and “choices” forced down my throat.’

With a sinking feeling, Nico recognised this Loren. Unwilling or unable to give up prescription meds under rehabilitation’s professional and properly resourced support she was kidding herself she felt strong enough to beat addiction, although she’d never exhibited that strength before. This was Loren not dealing with real life in exactly the same way she’d refused to accept her pregnancy with Maria until she was more than four months gone or refused to accept Nico was ending their marriage until the fifth communication from his solicitor. This was the Loren who used to use alcohol as a crutch and snapped at him for intimating it might be a problem. Only weeks ago he’d found her in drugs and alcohol-induced insensibility and she’d begged him to look after Maria … yet she was weaving a picture in which she felt safe and justified in her actions.

She embarked on a repetition of her intention to coach herself out of her addiction but he interrupted her. ‘How?’

She stopped. ‘What?’

‘How? What’s your plan? What will you put in place to make recovery possible?’ He left the question wide open but the specific subjects he saw as top of the list were childcare and income. Upstairs, footsteps clunked across the floor and Maria giggled, apparently restored to her usual sunny self.

Loren finally met his gaze, eyes shimmering with tears. Instead of answering his question she said, ‘I’m sorry I was unfaithful, Nico. It was a mistake.’

Shock tingled through him that she’d try and construct her false reality from that far back. ‘A mistake? You didn’t trip up and land on the guy,’ he pointed out. He didn’t actually say alcohol had played its part in her hook-up. Loren knew it. He knew it.

The tears welled over the rim of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. The short December day was darkening outside the window. She lunged suddenly, taking him by surprise, clasping his arms and digging her fingers in. ‘Nico,’ she implored, face crumpling. ‘It’s your help I need. Everything in my life comes back to you.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’ He jerked his arms free, breath tripping in his chest. He wanted to jump up, get away from her, even if it was only to put on the light, but it was too important that he understand what was happening for him to risk interrupting her. ‘Be straightforward,’ he said crisply.