IT IS ALMOST dark when they return. Tom stays asleep as she lifts him from the car seat and into her bed. She goes down to the living room, where Sam is lying on the sofa, plugged into his computer. He pulls his headphones off as she comes into the room and raises his beer. “You want one?”

She shakes her head. He makes room for her to sit. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Why did you tell your sister I share a bed with Tom?”

“Because you do.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Well, I’d rather share a bed with you.”

She laughs. She cannot help it. The thought is too absurd.

“I’m worried about you, Cate.”

He looks genuinely concerned. Or perhaps it is not concern, perhaps it is disappointment—the disappointment of one who has bought something online and then, just when the warranty has run out, realizes that it is faulty in all sorts of hidden ways.

“Did you ask Tamsin to arrange a Tuesday with your mum?”

His face tells her.

“Did you not think of asking me first?”

“I thought it would be good for you. I thought you would be relieved.”

“I thought you might have the courtesy to check with me before you rearrange my life.”

“Wow. OK. I’m just trying to help. I thought that’s what mothers need.”

“This isn’t help. It’s an ambush.”

“Jesus Christ, Cate.” He holds up his hands.

She gets up and goes into the kitchen. She is shaking. She looks through to the living room, where Sam’s back is to her. He has already clicked onto some computer game or other, put his headphones back over his ears.

This is the pattern of their evenings. A little passive-aggressive banter and then separate computers on separate chairs. If she is lucky, she gets the sofa. Then they go to bed. In separate beds. Repeat.

Her phone buzzes. A message from Hannah—a missed call. Her heart leaps. She can navigate by Hannah. Hannah is true north. She lifts the phone and calls her back.

“Cate?”

“Hey.”

“How are you? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

“Sorry. I’ve been . . .” What has she been? She has no idea.

“How’s Canterbury?”

“Funny,” she says.

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks of how it’s funny. Tries to frame a joke. “We went to see Sam’s sister. They want to take us to Dubai.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Seriously?”

A small sigh. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it. These things take time.”

Cate is silent.

“How’s my godson?”

“He’s good. Asleep.”

There is a pause, the sound of Hannah’s computer keys in the background, of Hannah doing two things at once—the great world swirling around her, summoning her back.

“Han?” says Cate.

“Sorry, just catching up on work emails. Had to send that one.”