It’s Sunday morning and I’m feeling out of sorts as I get ready to visit my parents. Although they’re not married to each other any more, I know they’ll both be there, along with their respective not-so-new spouses. Tash will be here in half an hour or so to give me a lift to the housing estate in Paddock Wood where we grew up. Neither Tash’s imminent arrival nor the visit to Mum and Dad are the source of my disquiet, though. Despite taking my number and seeming keen, I haven’t heard a peep out of Luke. He seems to have a knack for letting me get all the way to the stage where I decide I can’t be bothered with him before popping up again, and I can’t help feeling slightly played.

The problem is that he hasn’t technically done anything wrong. He never promised me that he’d text within a certain time frame; it was just my expectation that he would. The rational part of me says that I don’t have anything invested where he’s concerned so I should just let it play out, see what happens and not stress about it. After all, he’s just a guy and, although I am very attracted to him, that doesn’t mean it has to go anywhere. However, the irrational part of me keeps checking my phone and silently screaming, ‘Text me, you bastard!’ The irony of the fact that this is probably the common experience for most of Mike’s exes is not lost on me.

‘All right?’ Tash asks when I open the door to let her in. ‘Greg’s downstairs in the car keeping Damien from the Omen films entertained, so I hope you’re ready. Goodness knows what carnage might ensue from those two being left unsupervised for too long.’

I grin. ‘Do you think the fact that you use all these satanic references for your son might play a part in his behaviour?’

She smiles back. ‘He’s not that bad at the moment, actually. We did have to have another chat about “Mummy and Daddy’s personal space” the other day after he went into Greg’s bedside cabinet and found his condoms. He thought they were balloons and was going to use them to make decorations for a party for one of his teddies. Thankfully it wasn’t my side of the bed. I’ve no idea how I would have explained away most of the stuff in there.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ I tell her as I close the door behind me and we head for the stairs.

‘Well, a woman has to have ways to keep herself entertained when her husband is away for nights on end peddling his drugs.’

‘I’ll rephrase my earlier comment. I don’t want to know what you mean.’