Robyn felt as if she might just have nominated herself as the worst daughter in the world. ‘Mum, I’m sorry,’ she started saying, following her from the room, as Alison walked briskly towards the front door. ‘I didn’t mean to – Mum!’

But Alison was already out of the house and marching up the path to her car, nose in the air. Robyn stood in the doorway, pulling her dressing gown around her, knowing that she’d been cruel, knowing that she’d been unfair. When her mum had been such a rock to her, as well; when she’d comforted and supported Robyn through the worst few days of her life. And this is how you thank me, Alison’s body language seemed to say, hurt and stiff, as she got into the car with a slam of the door, then reversed out of the drive. Why do I bother?

Robyn pushed the door closed with a soft click, feeling ashamed and guilty and mean. Catching sight of herself in the hall mirror – bed-hair all over the place, complexion sallow where she’d hardly left the house in the last twenty-four hours, a splotch of coffee on her pyjama top – her instinct was to turn away quickly, but she forced herself to look, to take it all in.

Okay, she thought, eyeing her reflection. This is as bad as it gets for you. This is as low as you’re going to sink. From now on, the only way is up. Starting with heading up those stairs and having a shower, you stinking old slattern. Then you can work out how you’re going to apologize.

‘You all right, Mum?’ There was Sam, looking over the banister at her. She hadn’t just said all that aloud, had she?

‘I’m fine, sweetheart,’ she assured him with a shaky smile. ‘I’m going to have a wash and get dressed, and then let’s think of something fun to do today, you, me and Daze, all right?’

‘There’s that new Marvel film out,’ he said immediately, brightening. ‘We could go and watch that together.’

‘With popcorn!’ added Daisy, appearing beside her brother with a hopeful look on her face. She had ears like a bat, particularly when it came to the matter of potential treats.

A film and popcorn, thought Robyn, trudging up the stairs towards them. Sitting in the darkness while superheroes slugged it out on a big screen, with explosions and special effects, and at least ninety minutes when she knew the children wouldn’t be asking difficult questions about when John was coming back. Surely even she could manage that. ‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ she replied, gratified to hear their cheers in response.