‘My Fergus, you mean,’ Julia put in, wagging a finger. ‘My son.’

‘Your son,’ Frankie agreed. ‘He’s a really happy kid, his enthusiasm and love of life know no bounds. He’s growing up into such a lovely boy.’

‘Yep,’ Julia said irritably, as if Frankie was telling her something she already knew. She ripped open two sugar packets and stirred them into her coffee. ‘And?’

‘Craig’s been a great dad,’ Frankie went on, even though she could feel her nerve starting to falter. ‘And I’ve done my best too, to make every day a good one for Fergus, to teach him, to help him, to make him laugh.’

‘Right.’ Julia eyed her over the mug. ‘And you’re telling me this . . . why? To make me feel bad for not having been there? Or am I meant to be bowled over by gratitude?’

God, she didn’t half know which buttons to press, Frankie thought, feeling her skin prickling. Look at her sitting there, sneering so contemptuously, when Frankie was just trying to make things better, to open up a new, more civil communication channel. ‘I’m telling you because I absolutely love that boy,’ she replied steadily. ‘And because I just want what’s best for him.’

‘Right,’ said Julia again. Her nostrils flared as she breathed out crossly and her eyes were hard. ‘I get it. And now I’m guessing you’re going to say that what’s best for him is to stay right where he is, with dear, devoted Craig and kind, loving Frankie and—’

‘No,’ Frankie interrupted, trying to keep her voice even, despite the fact that Julia was clearly doing her damnedest to rile her. ‘I wasn’t going to say that. I think Fergus should see you. Of course he should. You’re his mum.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that, love,’ said Julia, but Frankie could tell she hadn’t been expecting the comment. ‘So what are you suggesting?’ she asked after a moment.

Now they were getting to it. ‘I guess I’m interested in what your ideal resolution to all of this is,’ Frankie replied slowly. ‘Genuine question. What would you like to happen? When you turned up at the flat that first time – what were you hoping for?’

Julia actually looked taken aback to be asked, but then, a split-second later, her eyes resumed their narrowing, as if she suspected Frankie of laying some kind of trap. ‘Well, to have Fergus back, of course,’ she replied warily. ‘To have my son.’

‘To have him full-time: that’s what you want, is it?’ Frankie asked, clarifying. ‘That’s what you’ve instructed your solicitor?’

Again, that mistrustful side-eye, that are-you-for-real? glance. ‘Sure,’ Julia said. ‘I mean, the way I see it, Craig’s had him for four years without me getting a look-in. Fair’s fair.’