My mother’s look borders on acidic. She’s happy to hand out the shit, but if anyone dares challenge her, they’ve caused a scene and embarrassed her.

‘Maybe the karaoke is too much now, Lex,’ says Dom. ‘I mean, we don’t even know if you’ll be up to enjoying it.’

I lock eyes with him. ‘The karaoke stays. End of.’

Dom assumes a resigned expression and takes a step back to disengage from the conversation. My mother simply shakes her head in disapproval.

‘Let’s get you seated then.’ Jasmine’s eyes dart back and forth curiously between us, aware that something’s not quite right.

We trail behind her into the restaurant, where she takes our drinks order as we take off our coats and settle ourselves. Although I could murder a gin and tonic – to numb my senses enough to ignore my mother’s inevitable judgemental comments – I refrain and opt for a tomato juice.

‘How are you feeling, Alex?’ my mother asks the moment Jasmine is out of earshot, our earlier confrontation already buried deep. ‘You’re looking a little peaky.’

‘I’m fine.’ I offer her the same bright smile I gave John outside, trying put her off.

‘Is that true?’ She looks straight past me to Dom. ‘I never know when I’m getting the truth out of this one.’

I attempt to bring her focus back to me. ‘Mother, that’s not—’

‘I’m asking Dominic, dear.’

I flinch in response to her flippantness. Though I don’t know why. This is exactly how she’s always been with me, so untrusting of my ability to know what’s best for me. Normally I can hold my own with her though.

‘Alex is doing great,’ Dom replies. ‘She’s been taking it easy and has stopped constantly checking her work emails – though I practically had to pry the laptop from her.’

‘Good.’ My mother looks at him pointedly over her wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘She’s incapable of taking advice from those who know better. It’s like talking to a steam engine.’

As I listen to this exchange, I feel completely patronised. Dom’s talking about me like I’m a toddler who made it through her first day at nursery, while my mother, who always behaves with a grandiose air, is putting on an enhanced performance. They continue their competing assessments of my progress and general existence. I’m particularly irritated by my mother’s ill-informed diatribe about MS and how it will affect me – information she’s clearly just googled and is now pretending to be an expert on. Eventually, I decide I’ve heard enough.

‘Eh… hello? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m right here, and perfectly capable of speaking for myself. You don’t need to discuss me like some case study.’

I glance at John, who has actually (and thankfully) been a calming influence on my mother – until now, it seems. He leans forward and pats my mum’s knee.

‘Isabel. How about we change the subject?’ he gently encourages her. ‘Alex is living with this every day. I’m sure she’d appreciate a night off.’