‘Sure,’ she replied, trying to keep her cool. Here we go, she thought, hearing him in the kitchen. Any minute now she was going to get his full, unfiltered reaction to her earlier criticism, and this time she wouldn’t have Fergus to act as a buffer. She had the horrible feeling it would be another case of Craig digging in his heels and refusing to see any angle other than his own.

He came and sat down next to her on the sofa, setting their drinks on the table in front of them. Just by the way he was sitting – slightly forward, hands clasped loosely between his legs – she could tell that he was tense. And then he looked at her sidelong and launched his opening salvo. ‘I think I might give up the column.’

‘Wow,’ she said, taken aback. Kill the golden goose? She had not been expecting that. ‘Seriously?’

He nodded. ‘With Fergus starting school in a couple of months, maybe it’s a good time.’ He swilled his wine gently in the glass, the overhead light catching in the dark-red ripples. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve raised the subject before, obviously, and our friend Julia has brought things to a head more recently.’ He sighed heavily, staring down into his glass. ‘I hate to say it, but yeah, it’s probably the right thing.’ Another sideways glance her way. ‘How would you feel about it, though? I mean, it’s income for you too, and I know you’ve got other bits and pieces of work, but . . .’

He didn’t need to spell out the ‘but’. But . . . it’s your biggest earner. But . . . it’s guaranteed money every week. But . . . it’s been our joint project for years now and will mean the end of an era. Still, at least he was asking her opinion on the matter, she realized.

‘I think now might be a good time, yes,’ Frankie replied, choosing her words carefully. ‘I would hate Ferg ever to feel weird about it, if teachers or parents at the school recognize the name and put two and two together. And we’ve got to draw the line somewhere.’ She hesitated, remembering Julia’s barb about the column, how the other woman had condemned the weekly piece as a cynical money-making exercise at Fergus’s expense. Frankie hoped Craig’s change of heart would seem like a gracious climb-down on that front at least, an admission that yes, she was being listened to. ‘Anyway, I’m going to sort out my dragon pitch any day now, and you’ve got all these other feature ideas,’ she went on, bracingly. ‘We can manage. We’re more than just one-trick ponies, right?’

He nodded. ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed.