Mum asked all the right questions after that – ‘Are you shopping for anything in particular, then?’ – and stayed away from all the tricky ones. The spectre of Rowan – the ghosting of boyfriends present – was left on the outskirts, mostly. But when I’d told her that tea and toast were ready my end, she swung around to a more loaded question. ‘You’re all right, love, aren’t you?’ she asked, but she said it in a soft voice; I imagined her head tilting to one side. I thought if I listened close enough I might even hear Dad soft-breathing into the mouthpiece, too, as though they were both craning to hear an answer.

I checked the time. We’d been on the phone long enough to tip me into a sociable hour to start calling people to make plans for the day. Balls to quiet. ‘I think so?’ I answered in a way that I thought might be too honest. But the prospect of lying, again, about my feelings, again, was … I sighed. ‘Everything is a bit much, that’s all – you know with Rowan and the engagement and, I don’t know, life, generally.’ I half-laughed. ‘I’m going to have a very kind-to-myself day, though, I promise.’

‘Double promise?’ Dad asked and I burst out in laughter. I heard what sounded like Mum slapping his arm. ‘What? We both live here. She doesn’t know I didn’t just walk into the room right then,’ he added in a voice that he obviously thought was lowered, but not quite enough.

‘Well, she bloody does now, doesn’t—’

‘I double promise both of you, okay?’

‘Okay,’ they answered in unison.

When I’d pushed them off the phone by offering a third promise, I ate the first half of my toast in dead silence. Then I did the kindest thing I could think to do …

*