‘How can you be so calm and civilised about all this?’ Lexi looked at her in exasperation. ‘You should be angry. I tell you now, if a man ever treats me the way Dad treated you I’ll punch his teeth down his throat and then I’ll take a knife to his—’

‘Lexi!’

‘Well, I would!’

Jenna took a slow deep breath. ‘Of course I’ve felt angry. And upset. But what’s happened has happened, and we have to get on with it.’ Step by step. Day by day.

‘So Dad’s left living in luxury with his new woman and we’re exiled to a remote island that doesn’t even have electricity? Great.’

‘Glenmore is a wonderful place. Keep an open mind. I loved it when I was your age and I came with my grandparents.’

‘People choose to come here?’ Lexi glared at the rocky shore, as if hoping to scare the island into vanishing. ‘Is this seriously where you came on holiday? That’s totally tragic. You should have sued them for cruelty.’

‘I loved it. It was a proper holiday. The sort where we spent time together—’ Memories swamped her and suddenly Jenna was a child again, excited at the prospect of a holiday with her grandparents. Here—and perhaps only here—she’d felt loved and accepted for who she was. ‘We used to make sandcastles and hunt for shells on the beach—’

‘Wow. I’m surprised you didn’t die of excitement.’

Faced with the sting of teenage sarcasm, Jenna blinked. Suddenly she wished she were a child again, with no worries. No one depending on her. Oh, for crying out loud—she pushed her hair away from her eyes and reminded herself that she was thirty-three, not twelve. ‘It is exciting here. Lexi, this island was occupied by Celts and Vikings—it’s full of history. There’s an archaeological dig going on this summer and they had a small number of places for interested teenagers. I’ve booked you on it.’

‘You what?’ Appalled, Lexi lost her look of martyred boredom and shot upright in full defensive mode. ‘I am not an interested teenager so you can count me out!’

‘Try it, Lexi,’ Jenna urged, wondering with a lurch of horror what she was going to do if Lexi refused to co-operate. ‘You used to love history when you were younger, and—’

‘I’m not a kid any more, Mum! This is my summer holiday. I’m supposed to have a rest from school. I don’t want to be taught history!’

Forcing herself to stay calm, Jenna took a slow, deep breath; one of the many she’d taken since her daughter had morphed from sweet child to scary teen. When you read the pregnancy books, why didn’t it warn you that the pain of being a mother didn’t end with labour?