‘Pru broke up with her husband last year,’ said Azra.

Shania turned to me, her face softened with concern. ‘Oh, no. You all right?’

‘And she’s looking for a new bloke,’ said Azra. ‘I’ve told her she’s got to move fast if she wants to get a good one, know what I mean? They get snapped up pretty sharpish, all those hungry women just waiting to pounce. Of course, they’ll have a lot of baggage—at our age we all do—but I think it’s weirder if they don’t. And widowers are a better bet than divorces because they won’t be bitter, just bereaved. But she’s got to watch out, because who wants to be a rebound fuck? She should let another woman do that job, then nab him for the long haul. Which Pru seems to want, but God knows why.’

They both laughed. This conversation annoyed me. Azra was talking as if I wasn’t there. And did I really want Shania to know about my private life? Wasn’t that my business?

Later that morning we did the deliveries. Sitting in the van, I read the cards. ‘Thank you, Mummy, for making me a little brother to play with,’ said one. ‘To the best wife in the world,’ said another. So many kisses; so much love. I watched Azra, lithe as a panther, bounding up front steps and ringing doorbells. She wore a singlet and jeans, a butcher’s apron tied round her waist and her hair bundled up with a rag. Needless to say, she was greeted with delight—who doesn’t like getting flowers?

In the van, however, we hardly spoke. She seemed preoccupied. I presumed she was just concentrating on driving. Traffic was heavy and it was hard to find anywhere to park. Sometimes, when Azra leaped out, I slid into her seat and had to drive around the block or double-park to a chorus of honking horns.

I hardly noticed. I was thinking about Lucy, how much I loved her and how I longed for her to come home. All my old emotions flooded back. I could be a mother again. Lucy was admittedly a grown-up woman, and a truculent one at that, but she was still my daughter and it would be a relief to be needed. Feeling obliged to others, even my dearest friends, was such a strain. Lucy might bully me but she was family, and I’d forgotten what family was like.

Just then my mobile rang. It was Lucy. Never one for chit-chat, she came straight out with her news. She’d split up with her girlfriend because she’d fallen for someone else—a woman who worked with her in the props department at the studios.

‘Why did you tell your dad first?’ I blurted out.

‘Christ, Mum, is that all you can say?’

‘I’m sorry. I just thought it might mean you were coming home.’

‘This is my home; Iceland’s my home. All my friends are here. And I only told Dad first because he phoned me from a narrow boat.’