He’d been flicking through one of my journals, too, I knew from the almost-perfect way he’d put it back in my drawer, but its contents were too cryptic to make much of, even for me. Scribbled ideas and song lyrics, unattributed quotes from books and films. My mother had often reminded me how illegible my handwriting was – she hadn’t needed to, but she had.

Did Zac think it was OK to be snooping in my private doodlings? Did he think Sarah had granted blanket clearance to read anything belonging to us? Did he think putting it back in my bedside drawer nearly, but not quite, how I’d left it would stop me noticing?

Oliver came into the kitchen, his hair sticking up but mostly dressed for school.

‘Thanks, buddy. Come on, sit here – here’s your muesli.’

Jesus. He looked so sad.

‘You’re sure it’s OK with your work to finish early today?’ I said to Zac.

‘Yeah, definitely. I told them I have some carer duties I need to fulfil.’

‘This tastes yucky,’ Oliver said.

‘Mix it in with the raisins,’ Sophie said.

I downed some tea, rushed into the bathroom, showered, brushed my teeth, hurried through to the bedroom, found my bike clothes. My Tag Heuer. The time. The fucking time.

Zac was on his phone in the kitchen when I returned. ‘Just looking at the calendar,’ he said. ‘So, Sarah’s out with The Ass this evening, right? It just says CBD drinks so I assume that’s a date. And you’re heading over to Biddy’s later?’

‘Yeah, no, I think so. What day is it? Yeah, maybe after getting the kids to bed. Would that be OK?’

‘Sure, dude. I’ll be here anyway. You guys are my top priority … Unless, you know, my new Tinder date can’t make it through the night without me, which –’

‘Sophie, eat up,’ I said. ‘We have to go soon.’

‘Oh, and I have to go now,’ Zac said, adjusting his glasses. ‘My train leaves in ten minutes. I don’t want to be running over the tracks at the wrong moment.’ He approached the kids, said, ‘Hey, Sophie, can we quickly show your dad what you learnt last night? Remember – No puedo creer lo tontos que son.’

‘No pedals creyar lo nontos the sun,’ Sophie said, smiling, milk dripping from her spoon.

‘Not bad,’ Zac said, laughing. ‘Not bad at all. Now, your turn, Oliver.’

‘Nah,’ Oliver said.

‘OK, try this one, then – Nadie sabe quién soy yo en verdad. Can you do that one, mate?’

‘No, gracias.’

‘OK,’ Zac said, crestfallen. ‘Los quiero mucho, chicos.’

Oliver shrugged, stirred his muesli. Sophie said, ‘Te quiero también.’

I waited for the front door to slam. ‘That was lovely, wasn’t it? It’s good to love people. Olly, mate, where are your socks?’

‘I don’t have any.’