He sighed. ‘Not really. Year 9 is a lot more work and if I want to get into the good classes next year, I can’t stuff around.’

Most parents would kill for a kid like Sax. We’d never had to nag him about homework or music practice, but I didn’t want him killing himself working too hard.

‘Have you had anything to eat?’ I asked.

‘I had a muesli bar on the way home from school. Look, Mum, I’m fine, but I really need to get on with this. Can we talk later?’

‘Of course, honey.’ He sounded so stressed, I decided not to berate him about Charlie but take the dog for a walk myself. ‘Can you listen out for your sister while I take Charlie out? Then I’ll start on dinner.’

‘Sure.’ He opened his laptop.

‘Don’t work too hard,’ I said as I left his bedroom.

Chapter 19

19

The words ‘Megan McGuinness—Couples Counsellor’ were printed in capital letters on a gold plaque next to a bright yellow front door. My insides wobbled as I approached. I still couldn’t believe I was in a position to need this kind of therapy. Especially since turning up at ‘couples counselling’ on my own made me feel like a failure even before I’d begun.

How was I supposed to fix our marriage when Adrian refused to come to the party?

Hoping Megan could work miracles, I rang the old-fashioned bell. The door pulled back mere moments later to reveal a woman with a coltish figure, a heart-shaped face and bright red, curly hair. Her skin was luminous and wrinkle-free. She was so young!

‘Hello.’ She thrust out her hand and smiled. ‘You must be Ashling? I’m Megan.’

I nodded, my mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

‘Such a beautiful name. Do come inside.’

I followed her into a room off the hallway and she gestured for me to sit on a white leather couch opposite a matching armchair, a black square coffee table in between with a fancy candle and a box of tissues on top of it.

‘Can I get you a coffee or tea before we start?’ she asked.

‘How old are you?’ I blurted, before realising how rude I sounded. Damn nerves. But seriously, what could she possibly know about mending marital rifts when she didn’t even look old enough to be legally married herself?

‘I’m thirty-two,’ she said with a knowing grin, ‘and I’m also married.’ She lifted her hand to show me her wedding ring. ‘But even if I wasn’t, I promise you, I’m qualified to do what I do, and I think I do it well.’

I nodded, feeling suitably chastised. ‘Sorry. I’d love a coffee. White with no sugar, please.’