Pax felt in control for the first time in months. She’d even made a new friend. ‘He needs to learn to be a kid again, you know? Like that grey beast of Mummy’s needs to remember how to be a horse. And I need to relearn how to be…’ She hesitated, realising saying a woman might be misconstrued.

‘Sober?’

Again, she let his moralising wash over her. ‘If you want, I can lock all the bottles of plum gin in the tack room safe and give you the key when we get back, Luca. I’m not screwing this up for Kes. He’ll suit that little school, I know it.’

She could almost feel her feathers lifting from depression’s oil slick, her urge to fly towards blue sky overwhelming.

‘So you’re planning on sticking around at the stud, then?’ he asked, eyes fixed on the road.

‘Don’t worry, Father O’Brien, I’ll keep out of your way.’

‘I don’t want you to do that.’ He looked across at her. ‘I want you to come with me to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.’

‘Take a right turn here.’ She didn’t want to think about it. ‘Why are we stopping?’

He pulled into a passing place and cut the engine, silencing the booming bass from the stereo as he turned to her, the smile gone. ‘I know you think I’m a pain in the arse, but I won’t let this drop.’

‘Fine! I’ll go to one.’ She wouldn’t.

‘You won’t.’

‘Did you?’

‘A couple of times, before I left Canada.’

‘Mack had a friend who went through Gamblers Anonymous. He had go and ask forgiveness from everyone he’d hurt through betting, like a door-to-door salesman.’

‘That’s not until step nine or ten.’

‘How many are there?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Isn’t it a bit excessive? I just want to cut down.’

‘Your husband is almost certainly going to accuse you of alcohol dependence in order to get custody of your son, am I right?’

She nodded, getting his point, the phone in her hand a loaded gun of texts from Mack, quick to disavow her of the idea their son would try out Compton Magna’s primary school, starting with You must accept that he’s coming to live in Scotland and most recently NOT HAPPENING! Just reading them made her hands clench in need of two big vodkas, one to drink and the other to throw in his face. She was determined to prove him wrong, although praying for God’s absolution from Absolut with Luca O’Brien was surely a step too far.

‘Luca, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s no way I can stand up in front of a room of strangers and say, “My name is Patricia Forsyth and I’m an alcoholic. Here is my story…” It’s like asking me to take my clothes off.’ Then she remembered she’d done just that in front of Luca whilst drunk. The car suddenly felt very small and her face very hot.

‘You can just listen. I didn’t tell anyone my story.’