And so Christine prepared a nice healthy dinner of which Joel would approve, if he had the chance, which he probably wouldn’t get, and in any case he had been suspiciously silent despite parting vows to email, text and call at every available opportunity. She ate alone, had a glass of wine (Dutch courage?), called her mother, called her son, and finally called her daughter, to wish them all a happy day. Her mother didn’t seem to know who she was. Her son made all the right affectionate noises but was clearly busy with other people and didn’t talk for long. Her daughter was on voicemail, and so Christine left her Christmas greetings there.

In the early evening, as she was going over her QC application for the umpteenth time, the TV on with the sound down, some Bruckner on the stereo and another glass of wine in her hand, the phone rang.

It was Andy.

‘Couldn’t let the day go by without wishing you a happy Christmas,’ he said. He sounded rather drunk.

‘Thank you. And a very happy Christmas to you too.’

Their last Christmas together had been anything but happy – Christine remembered furious arguments in whispered voices, burnt food, too much drink and Isabelle doing one of her silent-but-deadly acts. She shuddered.

‘We had some good times, didn’t we?’

What do you want?

‘Remember those New Years we spent in Scotland, before the kids came along?’

‘Yes, of course. Those were the days.’

Andy sighed. ‘Yup. Those were the days . . .’

In an attempt to steer the conversation away from nostalgia, Christine asked ‘So, have you had a jolly day?’

‘Jolly!’ He expelled air quickly through his nose – a typical Andy laugh. ‘Not exactly jolly, no. Working.’

‘Dubai project.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Talk to the kids?’

‘Yeah. Both seem well.’

‘Do they? It’s so hard to tell.’

‘Yeah . . . When did they grow up, Chris?’

‘While we weren’t looking, I suppose.’

There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

‘Well, thanks for call . . .’

‘Fancy a drink? For auld lang syne, and all that.’ He put on his ridiculous posh English accent.

‘That would be nice. We’ll get a date in the diary.’

‘I meant now. Tonight.’

‘Oh, I don’t know . . .’

‘A bit of Christmas cheer. Two lonely people together, and all that jazz.’

You’re alone on Christmas Day? It was hard not to feel a surge of delight at the news. ‘Oh, I’m afraid not tonight, Andy. I’m . . .’ What? Working on my QC application? Planning an early night? ‘I’m going over to Dave and Sally’s in a minute for supper.’

‘Oh God. You poor thing.’

‘Now now, goodwill to all men.’ Dave and Sally were old friends, whose over-elaborate parties had been a source of amusement throughout their married life.