Mum handed over a cup of tea that was too milky, but I didn’t say anything. I’d have preferred a coffee.

‘You two are in role reversal,’ she commented. ‘You act as though Frederica’s the thirty-something and you’re the child, Annie.’

‘Hey!’ Freddie objected. ‘I’m not a child. I’m a teenager, thank you! And my name is FREDDIE.’

Mum gave a vague dismissive hmmmm sound as she returned to the kitchen island for her own mug.

‘Not to sound cold-hearted,’ Mum continued – which meant that she knew she was being a cow, but cutting commentary on somebody else’s shortcomings was her personal passion and she wasn’t about to let up on Judgement Day now – ‘but I’m truly relieved you’re the one left standing and not the one doing a runner. At least you’ve got sympathy on your side. The Mackenzies are going to have to bow out of public life for at least a year. At least!’

‘Mum.’ I sighed deeply, the migraine I thought had gone suddenly knocking on my temples with a sledgehammer. I pulled the blanket into a fist at my chin. ‘Alexander’s not some naughty member of the royal family who cast shame on the Queen. He’s not getting a slapped wrist and a low profile as his punishment. He’s just a man. The world will keep on turning for him. Nobody is going to have to bow out of public life.’

‘More’s the pity,’ she tutted, wiping down the work surfaces with a soggy cloth from the sink. ‘Flash, darling?’ she added, waving the kitchen spray at me. ‘Try the Dettol next time – it smells better. And anyway, Fernanda was appropriately distraught but still couldn’t fill in any of the blanks. Nobody knows where Alexander is or why he did what he did – only that he’s still off-grid and that his phone goes straight to voicemail.’

The sledgehammer pounded harder.

‘Hmmmm,’ I responded, because what could I say?

‘Or, at least, nobody is admitting to knowing anything. I think that’s the thing when you have a son – you don’t get to know them like a daughter. All the clues were probably there, she just didn’t know how to read them.’