Maggie lowered the glass. ‘Hiya, love.’ She reached her hand out and took Christine’s, perma-tan, rings and forest-green nails meeting pale, moisturized, French-manicured. Robin knew Maggie took pride in subverting expectation but still, after a lifetime, she was completely bamboozled by the friendship between the two of them. It was real friendship, decades long: Maggie was woven all through Robin’s childhood memories, not only there at Christmas drinks and summer barbecues but the person who stayed to do the washing-up and ended up sitting in the garden until the houses across the fence went dark and the only light in the sky was pollution. They went out together too, dinner and drinks, any film Dennis baulked at. Not that there were many, he was a sucker for a rom-com – his favourite film was The Wedding Singer – but Maggie was Christine’s partner for the dramas, anything emotionally gruelling. About monthly, when she’d been at school, Robin remembered, her mother would get back from their outings after eleven, relaxed – for her – and pink with Chardonnay. What the hell did they find to talk about?

‘How are you all doing this morning?’

Christine’s breath made clouds. It was eight o’clock but the lawn behind her showed no sign of thawing. ‘I don’t think anyone slept.’

‘You’ve got to take it steady, all of you. This, it’s … beyond.’

‘That’s what I wanted to say to you, Mags. I don’t think Robin should be working today – I told her what you said yesterday about taking the day off. She needs to—’

‘I’m right here,’ said Robin. ‘Aged thirty-five.’

‘Everyone handles things differently, Chris.’

‘I know but you know what she’s like. If she gets it into her head—’

‘For Christ’s sake.’

Maggie gave Robin a look then turned back to the window. ‘I’ll look after her, darl, and I’ll drop her back later on. You take care.’ She fired up the car, raising the window as they pulled off. For the full circuit of Dunnington Road, Robin said nothing. As they waited for a break in the traffic on Stratford Road, the indicator ticked like a stopwatch.

‘She’s worried about you, that’s all.’

The lights changed and they inched towards the junction, past the little branch library, nearer the deep bland lawn of South and City College on the corner. The inexorable miles of white sky overhead. Robin felt a surge of panic. ‘She’s trying to take control, like she always does. Do I have to ask her now if I’m allowed to go to work?’ A flashback to one of their old stand-up fights, her mother yelling after her as she ran up the stairs, My house, my rules.

‘If you get some sleep tonight, we can take your car tomorrow. Would that make you feel better?’