Paula saw them inside and got back into the car, smiling to herself that her own son had been feminist enough to set his grandad straight on matters of equality. Maybe she and Matt were better parents than they gave themselves credit for. She was just about to drive off home, to tell them that Harry seemed to be a changed man, when the news about John hit her all over again and the smile abruptly left her face. Oh God, yes, another drama she had yet to get to the bottom of. On impulse, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text to him: Just heard about your pathetic mid-life crisis. For fuck’s sake, John!! Get over yourself and come home. P

He’d be angry, of course, to get a message like that from his little sister, when he was the type of brother who thought he knew the answers to everything, but she didn’t care as she pressed Send. Because she was angry, too, and because he deserved it, frankly. Then she found Robyn’s number on her phone and hit Call.

‘Hey! It’s me, Paula. I’ve just heard about John,’ she said when her sister-in-law picked up. It was only then that it occurred to her – too late, of course – that Robyn might be the sort of person who preferred to get on stoically with being dumped, who might not appreciate being called up to discuss the situation, but by then Paula’s words were already spilling out, and backtracking was no longer an option. ‘God, Robyn! What a complete and utter twat he is. I’m so sorry to be related to such a total idiot. How are you? Are the kids okay? Do you want some company or . . .’

She heard a sniff from the other end and cringed that she might just blunderingly have made matters worse. ‘Are you all right? Is this a bad time to ring? If you don’t feel like talking about it, I’ll understand. I just wanted to commiserate, to see how you are.’ She bit her lip. ‘But if you’d rather do this some other time—’

‘No.’ The word was a gulp, and then Paula heard Robyn sniff again and blow her nose. ‘Sorry. I’m . . . I’m coping really well, as you can tell,’ she said self-deprecatingly, but you could hear the wobble in her voice. ‘No, I’m not,’ she went on. ‘I’m not coping very well at all. But thank you. Thank you for ringing.’