‘That’s so typical. Just because you’re a parent you think that all the worry is one way. We worry about you every bit as much as you worry about us.’

‘But why?’

She came over and sat on the arm of the chintz-covered chair. ‘Because we love you.’

Christopher looked up at her. ‘That’s very kind,’ he said softly, and stroked her arm. ‘And mum?’

‘Yes. We love her too,’ murmured Ellie. ‘In spite of it all.’

‘You mustn’t blame her, you know.’

‘Hard not to.’

‘Ellie, if I thought that you did, I’d be very upset.’

‘Well…’

‘You don’t, do you?’

‘Dad, she went off and left you.’

‘Yes. But it was my fault.’

‘How could it be your fault?’

‘Because I was neglectful. I didn’t pay her enough attention.’

‘But you have a tough job. You’re a doctor, you’re bound to be preoccupied and stuff. But at least you were here. It wasn’t as if you were away for weeks on end or anything.’

‘But even so…’

Ellie spoke more softly, ‘Dad you did your best, that’s what matters. Sometimes things don’t work out the way they should. But that’s no reason to feel you’ve failed.’

‘Listen to you. You’re not supposed to talk like that. I’m the one with all the experience. I should be the one making value judgements.’

She leaned into him. ‘I’m sorry. I just hate to see both of you so unhappy.’

‘You think your mother is unhappy?’ There was a note of surprise in his voice.

‘She doesn’t say so, but I can tell. I know it’s not what she thought it would be.’

‘With Howie?’

Ellie nodded.

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, I don’t think the grass is as green as she imagined.’

‘Mmm. It seldom is.’ He patted her arm and made to rise from the chair. ‘So what will you do tomorrow?’

‘Oh, go into town. Have a look around. Maybe buy a few new T-shirts.’

‘No designer dresses?’

‘No need for them yet.’

‘Shame. I’d love to see you in a posh frock. Just for once.’

‘Oh, you will, one day. I’ve not gone all butch. Just practical. There’s not much call for an LBD out there.’

‘LBD?’

‘Little black dress, Dad.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. LBD,’ he murmured absent mindedly.

‘Dad, are you sure you’re all right?’

Christopher broke out of his reverie and smiled gently. ‘Yes. I’m fine.’

‘Is it something to do with this afternoon? That phone call.’

‘Yes. You remember Dr Silverwood?’

‘Old Dr Silverwood? The little man with the beaky nose and the glasses?’

‘Yes. Well, he’s died.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. You were rather fond of him, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. I was rather. And…well…’ He paused to think, then said, ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’