Connie’s phone, left on the table last night, suddenly pinged with a text. Devan snatched it up. ‘Oh dear. Our beloved daughter.’ He thrust it at her with a look of cruel self-satisfaction. ‘Over to you.’ Up at six thirty with Bash most days, and knowing her mother rose early, Caitlin often touched base in the mornings.

She took it but resisted checking the message. If it had been urgent, her daughter would have called. There was nothing she could say to her at this moment, anyway. Her daughter would hate her from now on. Let Devan be the one to break the good news. But both of them seemed rooted to the spot at the stark reminder of the family they loved.

‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, blinking her dry, scratchy eyes, which had finally run out of tears. But she knew, as she asked the question, what she had to do. It was unimaginable, remaining under the same roof with Devan. Feeling guilty all over again every time she looked into his face, upon which his agonizing hurt and reproach would be writ large for the foreseeable future.

He was hunched over, arms crossed, standing there like a statue. He had not answered her question.

‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘It’s not going to work, me being here.’

His head shot up and, with a spark of ludicrous hope, she thought he might be going to ask her to stay. But he nodded, his eyes blank. ‘I think that’d be for the best.’

Devan didn’t say any more, just pushed past her and left the room.

Connie packed a case. She was scarcely aware of what she was doing. Questions were screeching about her brain, like seagulls fighting over a dropped sandwich.

Where can I go? Neil and Brooks would always take her in. But Neil had his mother for a pre-Christmas week, as he and Brooks were flying to Costa Rica for the holidays. Anyway, it was too close to both Jared and home. Lynne might let her stay for a few nights. But Connie knew it would cause her sister too much stress, disrupting Roddy’s routine with an uninvited guest. Jill and Bill? Bill was Devan’s best friend. Caitlin … She couldn’t think about her daughter.

Glancing absentmindedly at the pile of neatly folded clothes in the two sections of her wheelie-case, she pushed it aside and slumped onto the bed. Devan had taken Riley out, slamming the front door as if he were shutting it on their marriage. The silence was like a judge on his high bench, pointing a condemnatory finger at Connie, making crystal clear the price she must now pay. Which seemed painfully high.