Michael just poured himself another glass of red and said, ‘What a shame, then, that they were given the Exocet treatment,’ and Cass, who’d had way too much to drink, said, ‘Aw, c’mon, Mike, don’t be a mardy arse,’ which helped not a jot. Michael picked up his wine and excused himself to make a start on the washing up, and Cass sniffed the air and asked in a stage whisper if anyone else detected a whiff of burning martyr. Ali told her to put a sock in it, then suggested to Stella she should go help her dad and cheer him up while she was at it – it’d be atonement, Ali said, for behaving so badly at the table.

‘Not badly exactly,’ Stella said, airily, ‘just controversially,’ but she followed Michael into the kitchen, because all the McCormacks, even the youngest member, were always keen to beat Beatriz to the dirty dishes, and the old lady would be back any time soon.

‘Greg,’ Cass said. ‘What a total dill.’

‘He was more fun than Moira,’ Ali said. ‘At least he recognised a plate of good food when he saw one. I’m sorry, Tahnee, that wasn’t my best idea, dragging you along tonight.’

‘Hey, I was fine,’ Tahnee said. ‘It was … interesting.’

‘Did you see her plate?’ Cass said. ‘Two lettuce leaves, a semicircle of cucumber, and a slice of tomato, no dressing. Was that anorexia in action at your dinner table?’

Ali shook her head. ‘No idea. Looked very much like it.’ She’d delved into her pocket for her phone, and she scrolled through the notifications as she spoke. ‘Serious self-control, at the very least.’ There was nothing from Dan, and by her reckoning four days had gone by since she’d heard from him. It was kind of hard to keep track, given the crazy time difference that made his today her yesterday, but anyway it seemed as if too long had passed without a song, without a reply to the Pretenders, and she was more troubled by this than she dared to acknowledge.

Cass and Tahnee were chatting now, about the festival, and the others Tahnee was playing later in the year in Sydney and Perth. She had a new management team behind her, a professional machine to carry her career forward in a measured way, a tried-and-tested process. It was weird, she said, years of coping on her own and now there was Donal and Darcy, and cheerful roadies to pack up her kit, and Ali, distracted by the absence of Dan, with only half an ear on the conversation, said, ‘Hmm? Darcy?’ and Tahnee said, ‘Donal’s assistant,’ and Cass said, ‘Donal?’ and Tahnee laughed: ‘My new manager,’ she said.

Cass said, ‘Girl, you really are the ant’s pants these days,’ then she looked at Ali and saw the shadow of concern on her face. ‘All good?’ she asked.