‘It’s just a bruise.’ Sasha decided that if they were going to have a barbecue, then what she really needed was a tiny sip – painkillers be damned, if she ended up insensible by the end of the evening, then all the better – and snatched the glass back. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything,’ said her mother. ‘Just go outside and plonk yourself in a lounger and leave everything to me.’

Unused to having leisure time forced upon her, Sasha instinctively took out her phone to check her emails.

‘No, put that away. You’re going to eat and drink and relax. Actually, you can give me that.’

Sasha laughed. ‘I’m not a child, Mum, I’m not going to give you my phone.’

‘I take it there are people in the office, working hard to locate those children?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then, no buts, give.’ Ursula held out a hand. ‘You can have it back in a couple of hours, by which time you won’t care to look at it. Until then, you’re forbidden to use it.’

Sasha reluctantly handed it over. ‘This is totally unnecessary.’

Ursula slipped the phone in her apron pocket and started buttering a heap of rolls.

‘How many people have you invited?’

‘Oh, did you want people here?’ asked her mother. ‘I thought we could keep it small and select. But Angel has invited some friends – I must say, she seems to have perked up since this morning.’

Sasha sipped her chilled wine, just what the doctor ordered, as Angel came through the kitchen with a group of her girlfriends – ‘’lo, Mrs Dawson!’ they all shrieked – and ran up the garden, where her mother had placed cushions and throws on the ground.

‘Glad to see Angel’s feeling better.’ Sasha nodded at the meat. ‘You do know she’s a vegetarian these days?’

Ursula smiled tersely. ‘We’ll see about that.’

‘Cheers,’ said Sasha and she lifted her glass.

‘Down the hatch,’ said Ursula and sipped her own wine. It was good of her mother to do this, really, and Sasha would do her best to put Sammi and Lucas out of her mind for the evening.

She watched Kev flipping burgers as he sang to music on the radio and did a bit of dad dancing, well aware that Angel’s friends were taking the piss. They gave him grief about his moves and he answered back, in good spirits. He seemed more like his old self as he pushed meat and veggies around the grill. Giving a man bits of flesh to cook clearly had some mysterious recuperative effect.

‘As soon as they pick up those tongs,’ said Ursula, as if reading her mind, ‘it stops their minds churning.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘He’s struggling, surely you can see that?’

‘He’s just…’ Sasha tried to capture the right word, but what was it? Quiet… reserved… ‘A bit preoccupied.’