Ingrid came back in with the smoked salmon on a tray, along with some quiche and a pot of pâté. Mum and I tucked in. Ellie picked at things and forgot to put her napkin on her lap; I had to kick her under the table to remind her. Ingrid asked Mum about the wedding, and Mum told her about the restaurant that had been booked for afterwards and the dress she’d chosen and so on. Then they got onto the subject of the honeymoon and Ingrid said she’d be very happy to keep an eye on me and Ellie, and I protested that we didn’t need a babysitter and then Mark arrived.

The impact on Ingrid was immediate. It was quite a transformation; she smiled and looked adoring, and everything about her was softer and more vulnerable than before. That was when it hit me: she really did live for her son. His happiness, his success, were everything to her. And we were part of that, and Paula and her little girl most definitely weren’t.

But Mark wasn’t really paying attention to Ingrid. He went over to Mum to kiss her on the cheek, and she was stiff and awkward with him, the way she was with Sean. It wasn’t quite as bad; she wouldn’t have let Sean kiss her. She preferred to keep Sean at arm’s length, if not further. But she was being cooler than I’d ever seen her be with Mark before.

Ellie and I exchanged glances, and I gave a tiny shrug, too small for anyone else to notice. What could we do about it, anyway? This was their business.

Ingrid went into the kitchen to fetch Mark a glass of non-alcoholic beer. The rest of us settled at the table. Mark said to Mum, ‘Is everything all right?’

She stared at him. ‘When were you going to tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’

I had never seen anyone look so nakedly guilty. If criminals looked like that when questioned about their wrongdoing, there would be no need for forensic science.

Mum’s eyes were wet with tears. ‘She said you have a child you never see.’

They gazed at each other. Ellie and I might as well not have been in the room.

‘I do,’ Mark said. ‘But it’s not my fault.’

‘Whatever happened, I had a right to know about it before I agreed to marry you.’

‘But, Jenny, under the circumstances… would it have made any difference?’

‘That was for me to decide! I am not dependent on you. I’m here because I choose to be, not because I need to be. I coped on my own with two children and believe me, if I have to, I’ll cope on my own with three!’

‘Jenny, please.’

‘I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything. You knew everything about me. So why keep something like that to yourself?’

‘Why do you think? Because I was ashamed!’

Mark hid his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and I realised he was crying. I’d never seen a man cry before.