I put wine glasses on the coffee table. ‘I am here, you know.’

‘There’s the look,’ Jai said.

I ignored him. ‘I think we’ll eat in here. It’s too cramped in the kitchen and the garden’s complicated.’

‘That’s fine,’ Hannah said. ‘Saves me having to move. Are you working on that case too, Jai? The sausage girl?’

‘She’s a real person,’ I said. ‘Just because you’ve seen her eating sausages in a bikini doesn’t mean she’s pretend.’

‘Sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘You’re right. Famous people never seem real.’

I wanted to say, She’s not what you think. She’s not just a girl in a bikini. She reads feminist books and appreciates art. But obviously I couldn’t say that.

I nipped out to check on the food and returned with three plates on a tray. I overhead Jai saying, ‘Yes, Suki wants kids of her own, but she doesn’t like mine very much. It’s as if she thinks by accepting mine, she’s giving up on having her own. But I don’t want more.’ How did Hannah get people to do this? I should have had her on the interrogation team.

I handed them plates. ‘It’s like my silver service days all over again. Guests chatting away to each other; me the irrelevant waitress.’

‘Except you haven’t chucked boiling-hot soup in my lap,’ Hannah said. She was attempting to eat her food without moving Hamlet. There’s an unwritten rule in my house about moving cats.

My mobile went. I put my plate down and fished it from my pocket, in case it was work-related. Dad. The father I hadn’t heard from in months, who hardly ever phoned me and was relatively monosyllabic when I called him. I stared at the screen, frozen. My finger hovered.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s Dad. I’d better take it. He never calls. Something must be wrong.’

I touched the green button. ‘Dad, are you okay?’

His voice came over too loud, as if he was nervous. ‘Yes, fine. And you?’

I stood and mouthed, ‘Sorry,’ to Hannah and Jai. They were already deep in conversation. No doubt Hannah was telling him all my most excruciating stories.

I walked into the hallway. ‘What’s going on, Dad?’

‘Do I need a reason to phone my daughter?’

Irritation fought with that old desire to please him. ‘You never normally call.’

He separated his words, as if it was the early days of telephone communication. ‘I thought I might visit you.’

I sank onto the hall stairs. ‘Visit me? Why?’

‘To see you. I know your grandmother died recently. I wanted to make sure you were all right.’

I felt tears welling up. He hadn’t visited me for years. ‘Have you spoken to Mum?’

‘She doesn’t like talking to me.’

‘But Dad, she tried calling you about Gran and you didn’t get back to her.’