‘Why don’t you ask them yourself?’ Robyn replied. Despite her complicated feelings of anger and betrayal, she couldn’t help feeling a tiny twinge of pity for John as well, these days. Bearded and kind of shabby around the edges, he appeared a diminished figure since his return to the city, his swagger all gone. ‘Robyn, I’ve been a fool, I’m so sorry,’ he had said the first time they saw each other, and from the expectant expression on his face it was obvious that he was hoping for the welcoming arms of forgiveness, a return to their old partnership together. We could give it another shot, yeah? his eyes had pleaded.

But she just couldn’t afford him complete absolution, she’d decided. He’d let her down so badly that she would never be able to trust him with her heart in the same way. However sorry he might be acting now, to let him back into her life would mean ushering in a side-helping of doubt at the same time, and who wanted to live with that? The kids will be glad you’re back had been the most generous thing she could bring herself to say.

Since then, the two of them had seen each other fairly frequently, but for practical, civil reasons rather than social ones: parents’ evenings at the children’s schools, and doorstep exchanges when he had been looking after Sam and Daisy for an afternoon or night. It was a detached, disjointed arrangement, born of necessity, but it still felt unnatural.

‘They’re fine,’ she added now, softening a little at his pinched face. ‘Sam did well in his exams last week, and Daisy has made a new best friend at Brownies. But I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it, if they manage to peel themselves away from Joe’s game.’ She indicated her head to where they were clustered around Paula’s younger son, who was showing them something on his phone. ‘At least I hope it’s a game,’ she added jokingly.

There was a small pause. ‘And how are you?’ he asked next.