‘Hi, yes, fine thank you,’ Craig said, as they reached the railings that surrounded the little yard at the front of the hall. There was a painted hopscotch on the paving slabs, a small raised bed in which had been planted sunflowers and runner beans, and a colourful shed that housed all sorts of trikes and scooters. ‘You’re kidding me,’ he said suddenly, stopping dead on the pavement. A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘Well, that’s just ridiculous. What the hell?’

Uh-oh. Frankie felt her spirits sink as she hesitated there beside him. This didn’t sound good. Whatever shot Julia had fired, it had certainly hit its intended target.

‘Hi, Frankie!’ came a voice behind her and she turned to see Pippa and Aisling, two of the mums she knew, walking up the road towards them, both looking a bit pink-eyed with wobbly smiles. ‘Big day. Hope you’ve remembered your tissues!’ said Pippa, pretending to dab at her eyes.

‘I’ve got a whole packet,’ Frankie confessed, patting her shoulder bag, just as Craig said tersely, ‘I don’t care how she feels, frankly. I couldn’t care less. Yeah, well, she can sue me then. Bring it on.’

Pippa and Alice turned, startled, at the sound of Craig’s angry voice, then glanced back to Frankie. They looked embarrassed and also slightly uncertain, unused to seeing Craig as anything other than his usual charming, friendly self.

‘Drama at work,’ Frankie said with a little laugh, the lie coming from nowhere. Her face burned with the awkwardness of the moment, and she found herself wishing the two of them would move on quickly, before Craig said anything else. He, meanwhile, seemed oblivious, still scowling into the middle distance.

‘We’ll see you in there,’ said Aisling tactfully, as she and Pippa scuttled off.

‘Right. Well, can you email me the correspondence, please, so that I can read it?’ Craig said. His hand curled around an iron spike at the top of the railings, gripping it as if he would like to wrench it from the ground and stab it into Julia’s heart. His eye fell on Frankie, waiting patiently there, and then he blinked as if he’d forgotten about her and Fergus and the playgroup graduation. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you back later. Thanks. Yeah, okay.’ He hung up. ‘That fucking bitch, you’ll never guess.’

‘Can it wait?’ Frankie pleaded, seeing Marie, the playgroup leader, appearing at the doorway of the hall with a bright smile and a beckoning wave.

‘We’re about to start!’ she called.

‘Just coming!’ Frankie called back. She took Craig’s arm and steered him towards the steps up to the hall. ‘Let’s just enjoy Fergus’s last—’

‘She wants me to stop writing the column,’ Craig said, thunder-faced, not seeming to hear.

‘Day at play . . . What?’