‘I’m not!’ I give a sudden sob. ‘I’m not lost!’

But Luke has gone. I sink back into my chair, feeling shaky with disbelief. So much for my intervention. Elinor stalked out. Luke stalked out. I’ve made everything a zillion times worse.

How could he think I’d have plastic surgery? How could he think I’d use Minnie?

‘Where Ladeeeee?’ says Minnie again. She looks curiously at my face. ‘Mummy crying,’ she adds dispassionately.

‘Come on, darling.’ With a huge effort I force myself out of my chair. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

Minnie isn’t too keen on the idea of bed, and I don’t really blame her, to be honest. It takes ages to cajole her back under the blankets, and I end up reading Guess How Much I Love You about ten times, because each time we finish, she says, ‘Again! More! Moooooore!’ and I can’t resist her pleas. Reading the familiar words is soothing me as much as her, I think.

And then just as I’m creeping out of her darkened room, I hear the front door slam down below. It’s like a stab in the heart. He’s gone and he didn’t say goodbye. He always says goodbye.

I feel dazed. I don’t know what to do with myself. At last, I head back into the kitchen, but I can’t bring myself to eat, and that’s not only because it’s revolting quinoa bake from that stupid Eat Good & Clean website which I am never, ever visiting again. So I just sit at the table, my mind circling round and round, trying to work out where exactly I went so disastrously wrong.

And then there’s the sound of a key in the front door, and my heart lifts. He’s back. He came back! I knew he would.

‘Luke!’ I go running into the hall. ‘Luke— Oh.’

It’s not Luke, it’s Suze. She’s looking tired, and as she takes off her jacket I can see she’s been nibbling the skin on her fingers, which she does whenever she’s stressed.

‘Hi,’ she says shortly. ‘Are the children OK?’

‘Watching Wall-E.’ I nod. I have a feeling they might have put it on for a second time, although I won’t mention this to Suze. ‘What happened about Tarkie? Did you find him? Is he OK?’

Suze surveys me silently for a moment. She looks as if I’ve made some joke, which isn’t that funny; in fact, is quite tasteless.

‘I have no idea if he’s OK, Bex,’ she says at last, in a strange manner. ‘Because it turns out Tarkie wasn’t at Golden Peace. He’s not in LA at all. He texted me from some roadside diner.’

‘A roadside diner?’ I echo in astonishment. ‘Where?’

‘He didn’t say.’ I can tell Suze is trying to keep it together, but she’s not really succeeding. ‘He didn’t tell me anything. And now he won’t answer the phone at all. I have no idea where he is, I have no idea what he’s doing, he could be anywhere …’ Her voice rises to an accusing roar. ‘And it’s all your dad’s fault!’