‘Are you sure he’s OK with this? I don’t know if—’ Mary’s soft voice was harder to hear than her husband’s and the last few words didn’t make it through to the listening ears in the living room.

‘He’ll have to be,’ Robbie replied. ‘I need the garden done; he’s looking for work experience in my office. Nothing is for nothing, right? Now, we’d better get off to this dinner.’

The living room door opened, and Fran and Zara made a great show of looking at Road Runner with Lily. Mary greeted them in that quiet, slightly aloof way she had about her. She looked beautiful in a long green sparkly dress, silver shoes, and a matching silver hairband. Actually, Fran thought, she looked like a film star; like Natalie Wood or Audrey Hepburn, her hair all swept up in a bun, her tiny arms and tiny waist. Fran thought about her own rather thicker arms and waist, and instinctively sucked in her stomach. She was the unhappy recipient of her mother’s strong, sturdy figure, while Mary, no doubt, came from a long line of wasp-waisted women.

‘There are candy bars and cookies in the kitchen,’ Mary said. ‘Please help yourselves after Lily goes to sleep.’

Fran and Zara exchanged a look.

Candy bars. Cookies. Nobody said cookies. They were biscuits, for goodness’ sake.

‘I’m fine thanks, I’m not really into chocolate,’ Fran found herself saying, while Zara threw her a look of surprise.

‘Since when? You ate two Marathons in college yesterday!’ said her so-called best friend.

Mary, serene with her half-smile, bent to kiss Lily. Or ‘Lilybug’ as she called her, a nickname that made Fran cringe every time.

‘Oh, Zara,’ Robbie said suddenly. ‘I keep meaning to ask, would your Aunt Ruth like any help in the garden? Cutting back trees and hedges? I can’t imagine it’s easy for her managing on her own.’

‘That’s so thoughtful of you!’ Zara said, clapping her hands together. Fran winced.

‘Not at all, mention it to her anyway. We’d better go, Mary,’ Robbie said, turning to his wife, and the pair, as beautiful as any Hollywood couple, said goodbye and left.

‘He is so good-looking,’ Zara said as the front door closed.

‘Zara, I’m all for “plenty more fish in the sea” et cetera, but seriously, stop about Robbie.’

‘All I’m saying is, objectively speaking, the man is attractive. I may be broken-hearted but I’m not incapable of noticing other fellas.’ She smirked. ‘And he was eyeing me up earlier, before Mary came in – didn’t you notice?’

Fran most certainly had not noticed. She put her finger to her lips and pointed her toe at Lily. ‘Keep your voice down.’

‘She’s lost in Danger Mouse, she hasn’t a clue what we’re saying. Should you be getting her to bed?’

Fran pulled herself off the couch. Zara was good at eating Kit Kats and choosing videos, but not so keen to help with the babysitting part of the babysitting.

Lily’s wailing began an hour later, when Fran and Zara were twenty minutes into The Amityville Horror, a film choice Fran was wholly regretting.