Rose knew something was wrong as soon as Kate walked through the door. ‘Are you all right, my love?’

‘I just need a few moments.’

‘Well, you know where you are.’

Kate went straight upstairs to the main spare bedroom on the first floor, without saying hello to her children or her mother. She closed the door, drew back the curtains and looked out at the moonlight shimmering on the flat, calm water. She started to cry and, before she could contain herself, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Her chest constricted again, as if she were having some kind of heart attack. She lay down on the sofa by the window and put her legs into the air. She tried to slow her breathing and bring some control to her quickening pulse.

There was a soft knock on the door and Rose crept in. She came closer. She’d bought a new pair of oval glasses, which somehow served to exaggerate the kindly expression that was her default demeanour. Her long dark hair was shot through with more grey now, though she seemed disinclined to do anything to hold back the march of time. ‘Anxiety attack?’

‘I don’t know. I—’

‘They are horrible things.’

‘What the hell is happening to me?’

‘You mean physiologically? You’ve been driving yourself too hard for too long. Too much stress. Too much trauma. The release of adrenalin and cortisol has become your body’s learnt reaction and now your mind and your body are winding each other up, collectively panicking that things appear to be spinning out of control.’

‘Have you ever had it?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘It’s a long story. It was in the period we were trying to have children. I was very busy at work and I invested too much hope in . . . and . . .’ Rose shook her head, clearly reluctant to go back there. ‘The main thing you need to know is that it will pass. You will get better. As long as you take action now.’

‘Did Dad suffer from anxiety?’ Kate’s father had been Rose’s much-loved younger brother.

‘Not that I was aware of, but . . . perhaps. He certainly wasn’t himself after he found out about your mother’s affair with David Johnson.’

‘David Underpants.’ Rose permitted herself the ghost of a smile. ‘You know,’ Kate went on, ‘he used to wear these really tight swimming trunks that stretched high above his waist. Even as a child, even when he was supposed to be still our friend, I could see he was a ridiculous figure.’

‘I’m not sure that helped your father.’

‘I can still remember the call to Helen like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the stairs. I could tell from the moment she answered the phone something terrible had happened. She said she couldn’t see me any more and when I asked why, she said my dad could explain.’

‘Did he?’

‘Not really. He said there had been some difficulty with Helen’s father. I thought maybe he’d gone bankrupt, or they’d lost their house or . . .’ Kate’s voice trailed off. ‘But then I couldn’t understand why that was causing so much tension in our home.’