It was said without rancour, or bitterness, or the twinkle in the eye with which Lucy usually delivered her malicious barbs, so if it was an impression she took issue with, Kate didn’t doubt it represented, for once, her mother’s genuinely held view. Lucy was looking at the picture of her former lover on the side table. ‘I think you’d better put that away now. Perhaps you could retrieve the photograph of your father from the drawer.’ Kate did so and they both sat in silence for a while, as if determined to enjoy this momentary contentment. Kate could hardly take her eyes off her father’s kind, smiling face.

They retreated into safer subjects after that: the weather, Fiona’s dress sense and Gus’s gaming habits. Kate waited for the wheel to turn, for the malice to creep back in, but her mother retained her equanimity throughout and they parted, much later than Kate had intended, with a hug. ‘You do look tired, love,’ Lucy said, as she released her.

‘I am.’

‘It must be hard without Stuart.’

‘Yes.’ Kate couldn’t help bridling. ‘Nothing I didn’t bring upon myself, I’m sure.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. I understand that trying to have it all – and do it all – on your own must be impossibly difficult. But you must sleep. And if you need help, please ask for it – from whomever. Rose. Even me.’

Kate didn’t pick that up immediately, but neither did she walk away.

‘I know we’ve had our differences over the years, but I’ve never shown the children anything but love, and I’m not so gaga that I can’t look after them now and again.’

‘I understand, Mum. Thank you.’

‘You can’t look after them if you’re not well yourself.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I don’t think you are, but I’ll leave it there.’

Kate walked home slowly, as if to make the feeling of relative warmth last. She wished she had stayed longer. Why hadn’t she lingered awhile?

It wasn’t until she turned the key in the door that her rational mind reasserted itself. It said everything, surely, about her upbringing that twenty-five minutes of relative normality could have elicited such a response.

Rose had cleaned the kitchen so that it was immaculate. She sat at the table, reading an old copy of Vogue and drinking herbal tea. She stood to hug Kate. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Valium.’

‘As bad as that?’

‘Basically. It’s been a long day. Is Gus still awake?’

‘He might be.’

Kate threw her coat on to the sofa. ‘I could murder a glass of white wine, if I’m completely honest.’ She went up to find Gus face down on the bed with Nelson beside him. For once, she didn’t feel inclined to move their ancient dog.