Perhaps this year she should issue Jude with some sort of ultimatum. Put a firm date on when he would forsake his family to be with her. The thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach. The children would be distraught, at first, of course. It was only natural. But they would come round in time. They were bound to. Children were very resilient. They’d take it slowly, until they got to know her, but soon they’d be able to stay at weekends and then she’d be like a proper stepmum to them. She’d be the best stepmum in the world – she’d love them as much as she loved Jude – and they’d end up loving her just as much as they did their real mum.

In the middle of her daydream the intercom buzzed and it jolted her back into the real world. As she flew to the door, she checked herself in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad. Not too much the worse for drink. It could be Jude having forgotten his key. Heart pounding, Lauren pressed the intercom.

‘Hey!’

Her heart sank. It wasn’t Jude. But it was a voice she recognised only too well.

‘Zak,’ she said. ‘Come on up.’ And she buzzed the door open.

Moments later, Zak Reynolds was in her flat. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ he asked, watching her pace around. ‘You look very edgy.’

Lauren made herself relax. ‘I’ve only just got home,’ she explained. ‘From my sister’s fortieth birthday party.’

‘Good time?’

‘A blast.’ She wasn’t going to tell Zak that she’d eschewed the charms of her sister’s rich and well-connected friends to slink off early to bed and lick her emotional wounds. Jude had promised that he would come – and he hadn’t. It was the first time he was going to officially meet her family and he had cried off at the last minute.

‘I got some buckshee tickets for a gig tonight in Camden. Low-key thing. Thought you might like to come along, have a beer.’

‘That’s really kind of you, Zak.’

He started to laugh. ‘“That’s really kind of you, Zak”.’ He flopped down on her sofa. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to? This is your Uncle Zak.’

She ran her hands through her hair and tried a laugh herself. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know that Sundays are usually shitty for you. Thought I might lighten the load, but if you say “That’s really kind of you” in that stupid voice again, I might have to kill you.’

This time Lauren really did laugh. ‘Oh God, Zakary Reynolds, what am I going to do?’ She flopped down next to him.