‘They want you back,’ Rose said. Kate nodded, wondering how Sir Alan had known where she was spending the weekend. ‘One of the advantages of not actually being your mother,’ Rose went on, ‘is that I don’t feel obliged to nag. So just take this as a statement of obvious fact. I don’t think you’re in any fit state to be at work and I’m sure Sir Alan will understand if you explain it to him. And if you don’t want to, I’m quite happy to do so.’

‘I’ll be fine. I’ll catch the afternoon train back. I’ll sleep tonight.’

Rose didn’t make any attempt to hide her disquiet. ‘All right, but let me know when you’re ready to acknowledge that things are stacking up against you. There’s no shame in admitting you’ve reached your limits.’

Kate buried herself in the paper. She had absolutely no intention of admitting she had reached her limits. She wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant.

She woke the children at nine, so that they would have time to eat before their scheduled surf lesson. It took three attempts to get Gus out of bed, but once he was awake, he ate his breakfast with the speed of a gulag prisoner finally offered a square meal. Fiona had coffee, black, no sugar. Her once dappled cheeks looked gaunt, her greasy blonde hair tied back in a tight knot. Her vivid blue eyes were in danger of being the only trace of the beauty she’d once been.

Normally, she would pretend to eat something – usually cereal, which she would then push around her bowl until it looked as if she’d had some. But this morning, she didn’t even do that.

Kate tried to get her daughter on her own on the way down to the beach, but Fiona wedged herself alongside Jed the entire way, as if she knew what her mother was trying to do.

Simon and Rose went back to the house, so Kate watched the surf instruction alone on the beach. Despite the sunshine, it was cold, and she kept her hands thrust deep into her pockets. Polzeath was a small community that swelled in the summer months. Drab in the rain, it could pass itself off as quaint when the sun was shining, as it was that morning.

All three of the children got up easily on their surfboards at the second or third attempt. Jed was by far the best and Fiona consequently lost his company to her brother on the walk back to the house. Kate thought her son’s admiration for Jed bordered on adulation these days, but perhaps there was no harm in that.

Kate saw her chance and accelerated to fall into step naturally with her daughter. ‘I knew you were waiting to pounce,’ Fiona said.

‘That’s not kind.’

‘I had breakfast.’

‘Did you? I only saw coffee.’

‘I wasn’t hungry. I am eating.’

At least she hadn’t said, It’s none of your business. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, changing tack.