‘It’s three weeks away, Rachel,’ snapped Josh. ‘Mum and Dad need to be able to make arrangements.’

‘I’m sure they can figure out how fat the turkey should be without having an hour-by-hour agenda for me,’ I snapped back.

‘You need to learn how to make a commitment and stick to it,’ said Josh. He gave me a patronizing smile. ‘I’ve seen it when people are trying to get sober. You’ll thrive on calm and order.’

‘He’s right,’ said Chloe, who was always looking for ways to prove she was his loyal lieutenant. My brother’s a bully; she’d worked out long ago that it made her life a whole lot easier if he knew she was in his camp. ‘And I’ll be really disappointed if you’re not here,’ she added disingenuously, spooning a mouthful of food towards the baby, who was wedged into a high chair next to her. ‘So will Nancy. You’d miss your godmother, wouldn’t you?’ she cooed.

Humiliation felled me. I looked across to Sophie, who smiled nervously, then looked down at her plate without saying a word.

‘Of course she’ll be here,’ said Dad dismissively. ‘Anyone need more meat?’

He stood, ready to get the tented rack of lamb from the counter.

‘Why don’t you just invite Esther instead?’ I asked him. ‘I’m sure she’d love to spend some extra-curricular time with you. Shame to limit it to the office.’

‘Rachel!’ said Mum, her face splashed red.

‘Jesus, don’t start this again…’ said Dad.

‘I just find it weird, the way she’s suddenly reappeared,’ I said. I wasn’t going to be silenced. ‘Where exactly did she crawl out from, anyway? Does anyone actually know?’

‘Don’t talk about her like that!’ said Sophie, her voice catching.

‘Sorry, Sophie,’ I said. ‘But you don’t know the whole story.’

‘Shut the…’ Josh stared at me with something that looked like hatred. ‘My children are playing twenty feet away,’ he hissed. ‘Whatever fantasy you made up when you were even more of a manipulative little bitch of a teenager, you don’t need to keep banging on about it. Hurting Mum and Dad. Hurting all of us.’

‘It hurts me, having it shoved in our faces,’ I said, aiming my words at Dad. He’d crossed the kitchen, busied himself with the meat. ‘It makes me feel like I’m going mad, even though I’m the only one telling the truth.’

Something stopped me forming the words. Something stopped me saying ‘Dad’s mistress’ out loud. It was still too dangerous. Mum was studying me, her face a blank mask. I faltered: would she really be this calm if my darkest suspicions were right?

‘I think you should go home now, Rachel,’ she said evenly. ‘You’re under a lot of personal stress right now, we all appreciate that. You need plenty of rest. Time to recuperate.’