Nico swung around on his stool. Maria stood in the doorway, her head tilted and her tights drooping. He smiled reassuringly. ‘Mummy’s having a rest, which means you can play with Josie.’

She didn’t look upset or worried but merely nodded. ‘Yozee wee.’ A toilet flushed, as if to confirm her observation.

He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we have lunch? Josie likes chicken sandwiches. Do you?’

Maria nodded, silky hair bobbing. ‘With catch up.’

‘Red ketchup?’ He opened a cupboard. ‘Like this?’ He produced a squeezy bottle of Heinz, Josie’s favourite.

‘Yes!’ Maria broached a bar stool and automatically Nico helped her up, wishing either she had a high chair or he had a lower table. Still, she’d only be here a couple of days.

‘Catch up,’ she reminded him.

‘OK.’ He laughed, entertained by her single-mindedness. ‘Let me make the sandwiches first.’

Josie thundered downstairs, ponytail flying, and soon the three of them were eating companionably.

Maria proved herself an unnaturally amenable child. Throughout the rest of the day she went about her business without crying for Loren though asked a couple more times, ‘Where Mummy?’

Josie answered matter-of-factly, ‘Mummy’s at home and you’re staying with me and my dad.’

Maria wrinkled her nose at Nico and said, ‘Mydad.’

It was late on Sunday afternoon when Nico’s ex-mother-in-law Vivvi turned up. The girls were playing upstairs and Nico, spotting Vivvi’s car, opened the door before she could ring the bell. ‘Come in,’ he suggested. ‘If we keep it down we can talk before the girls know you’re here.’

Vivvi followed him into the kitchen, face pale, creases around her eyes. She refused refreshment and didn’t sit down. ‘I’ve been with Loren,’ she whispered, blinking rapidly. ‘It’s much worse than I’d feared. She was out cold when I got there at ten this morning. I gave her a talking-to and she’s confessed to misusing prescription meds. Barbiturates. They mix badly with alcohol.’

Nico’s heart turned to lead. ‘I had no idea,’ he murmured, wondering if ‘a talking-to’ ever solved a substance abuse problem.

‘No chance of an emergency appointment with her GP on a Sunday,’ Vivvi went on, shoving back her silver-streaked hair wearily. ‘She talked to a helpline but wouldn’t tell me what they said. She made promises about cutting out these bloody pills but says I’m not to push her too hard to do things she’s not ready to do.’

Nico blew out his cheeks. ‘Hmm.’ It sounded like Loren-speak for ‘I don’t want to be held accountable.’