I can’t remember a time in our entire marriage when Greg and I have been at such odds and it’s depressing me immensely. He’s out fishing even more than normal, and when he is at home he tries to avoid me completely. Which in a house our size, is no mean feat. Most of the time he’s hiding away in the garage doing things to his fishing equipment that I just don’t understand, and am not interested in enough to bother to learn.

I’m hopping about, tidying away my bucket and my pink sponge – even that looks sorry for itself – when my big sister’s posh car pulls up outside our house.

It’s weeks since I’ve seen Chelsea and I feel bad because I should have made more effort now that she’s at home in Woburn. To be honest, I’ve been avoiding her because of the Bounced Cheque Situation. How am I going to raise it with her? I know Chelsea will be mortified. My sister slips out of her car and comes towards me, arms outstretched. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she cries.

‘I forgot,’ I apologise. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

‘I had to find out from Stephanie,’ she tuts.

I have no idea who Stephanie is and, obviously, that registers on my face.

‘You know, Annie.’ Chelsea pulls a face. ‘Mrs Drew-Phillips’ daughter.’

Still none the wiser. I do not know and have never known a Mrs Drew-Phillips. And definitely not sure how Stephanie, Mrs Drew-Phillips’ daughter, got to hear about my misfortune. ‘Oh, yes,’ I say. ‘That Stephanie.’

If my sister has also been told by Stephanie the way I came about my injury, then she doesn’t let on. I’m hoping to take that particular secret with me to the grave.

Chelsea lifts my bucket and puts it away for me. Her nose gives an involuntary crinkle when she sees the state of our garage. Chelsea’s garage has a painted floor and white walls lined with useful storage cupboards. Ours doesn’t.

‘Don’t you two ever think of involving me in your lives?’ she asks suddenly, in a tone that I’ve never heard her use before. ‘Why didn’t Lauren phone me?’

‘Lauren has troubles of her own,’ I admit, even though Lauren would rather do something unpleasant to her face with a blunt knife than let Chelsea know that things aren’t perfect in her world.

Chelsea waits for further explanation. Which, after a short tussle with my conscience, I give. ‘She’s finally broken up with Jude.’

‘About time,’ is my sister’s verdict. I agree. But I also know that not everything in this life is black and white. Nor does it fit into little boxes as Chelsea likes it to.

I hop into the kitchen and Chelsea follows.