‘So, there we have it!’ said Amber, beaming. ‘We’ve got to your issue. Let’s try out a phrase or two for size. Give me some words.’

‘Toxic. It’s fucking toxic,’ I said, filled with righteous energy.

‘You’re right,’ agreed Amber. ‘It is. So let’s name it. Toxic Mummy’s Daughter?’

I stared at her. Could I do this?

‘Yes. Okay. Yes!’

‘So, there we have it,’ she said. ‘Rachel’s left the building, and in her place we have Toxic Mummy’s Daughter. Let’s give her a clap and decide who goes next!’

I collapsed heavily into my seat, the applause reverberating through my body. I had committed.

It was late now, and Amber had gone to bed. I’d lost track of time, my hands waving above my head as my body swayed and dipped in a vague approximation of dancing. The wailing chorus of ‘I Feel Love’ kicked in, and we all sang along at the top of our voices, tuneless and blissful. Our fingers, freezing in the draughty living room, touched and grasped, our eyes locking with a warm sweetness.

‘Happy Christmas, losers!’ yelled Marco, pointing at his watch.

‘Happy Christmas, Abandoned Peter Pan,’ I yelled back, hugging him. If love was a verb, our hug certainly felt like it, and so did all the others I shared. I didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with these precious people. My family threatened to lurch up, but I forced down any threatening emotion. My happiness was too hard won to let them rob me of it.

Arthur’s hug came last.

‘Happy Christmas, Toxic Mummy’s Daughter,’ he said, directly into my ear.

How could such a ridiculous phrase feel like a come-on? I felt his lips brush my skin, and an unexpected tremor shot through me. I peeled my neck backwards to look up at him. Was this dangerous? A stab of desire as strong as this almost always ushered in disaster, but maybe I was a whole new person now.

‘Happy Christmas,’ I said. It felt mean not to use his name. His pain needed acknowledgement too. ‘Never Good Enough.’

He grabbed my hand, entwined his fingers with mine as the opening chords of an Adele ballad kicked in. I stood on tiptoes so I could get close enough for him to hear me.

‘Are you married?’ I regretted the question as soon as I’d asked it. The lights were as bright here as everywhere else in this house, so there was no hiding my embarrassment. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. Scrub that.’

A slow smile unfurled across his face.

‘I’m flattered you want to know,’ he said, his dark brown eyes intense. ‘No. Not now.’

‘Right. Sorry.’

‘Don’t ever apologize for being open-hearted,’ he said, pulling me closer to him, and moving me to the music. His firm fingers played scales on my ribs. ‘I love that about you.’