She’d passed out briefly the previous Wednesday night after fucking him in our dining room and doing a line of his coke. He’d shaken her back into consciousness, told her she was too skinny and needed to take better care of herself, before carrying her through the house, past the sleeping kids – if they’d woken, Christ, if they’d seen that – and leaving her in bed. Sarah had told me some but not all of it. Zac, in his uncut version, was appalled that Vernon hadn’t rung or texted Sarah since to make sure she was OK. Me too – I was appalled.

From Sarah: Sounds good to me

I texted – no, I had to get back to my desk, pretend to do some work. I opened my emails, started sifting through them, deleting them indiscriminately. My monitor and phone pinged reminders that I had a meeting in fifteen minutes, one I was supposed to be chairing – fucking balls – on a big-name writer who was coming to the city in … oh, whenever. In lieu of any preparation, I’d have to elicit my way out of trouble: Thanks for coming, everyone, I have a clear plan of action, rest assured, but before I begin, what do you know about this writer? How would you do my job if you were me?

From Sarah: Hey, would a cardiothoracic surgeon be an improvement on Vernon, you think?

My heart, boom. My fucking meeting. I stood, sat, stood, texted: Yes :)

* * *

I knelt at Oliver’s bed that evening, stroked his hair.

‘I really loved that story,’ Sophie said.

‘Me too,’ I said, turning. ‘It’s so good they found the gold in the end.’

‘Did Mummy show you my poem?’ Oliver said.

‘Your poem?’

‘It’s in the kitchen,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll get it.’ She came back, handed me a piece of crumpled A4.

‘Oh, wow, look at that ace drawing. Is that a monkey?’

‘It’s a koala,’ Oliver said. ‘I’m a terrible drawer.’

‘No you’re not, buddy.’

‘That’s not true, darling,’ Sarah said.

‘It actually is,’ Sophie said. ‘He sucks.’

‘People in glass houses shouldn’t throw moss,’ Sarah said.

‘Oh, look at this amazing poem,’ I said, holding up the sheet of paper.

Koalas are really sleepy

They are also kind of creepy

They are very lazy

They drive you crazy

‘That’s really good,’ I said. ‘Can I put this up on Mummy and Daddy’s wall?’

‘Whatever.’ He shrugged.

‘Daddy,’ said Sophie, ‘we heard Cinderella today at school but it was different to the film.’

I turned to face her. ‘How come?’

‘Prince Charming pulled Cinderella’s clothes off,’ she said, laughing.

‘Oh, I’ve heard that one too,’ Oliver said, sitting up. ‘He wants her to stay at the ball, so he holds on to her, but she tries to run away and he accidentally rips her dress off.’

‘I’ve never heard that version,’ Sarah said.