Esther shook her head. ‘Oh no, nothing like that, at least not that I’m aware… in fact, I am sure not.’ Esther hesitated, maddened that, even now, she had to be the conduit for information that belonged to Lucas, not her. ‘No, the awfulness then was more about the general misery when Dad was growing up, the mood-swings – you know, from Grandad’s drinking – and all of it compounded by him being pretty lonely, I think. When Grandad got struck off, I know there was some bad bullying – children can be so cruel—’

‘Shit, I was going to make garlic bread,’ Lily cried, bringing the interrogation to an abrupt end, ‘and there’s no Parmesan. Will you be okay with normal cheese?’ She became a whirlwind, draining the spaghetti, dishing out the Bolognese, and grating a nugget of Cheddar into a cereal bowl, before setting two heaped plates of pasta on the table and dropping into the seat opposite Esther.

Through it all, Esther sat, a model of serenity, on the stool that was too high for the table and always gave her a backache, feeling like someone waiting for a storm to pass. Behind Lily’s head she noticed a photo stuck on the fridge door among several others, of Dylan, looking goofy with a pint of beer. She bit her lip.

‘So, how’s your garden?’ Lily asked, as if making a polite effort at conversation with a stranger at a formal dinner.

‘My garden is fine, thank you for asking,’ Esther replied evenly. ‘This is delicious, darling. Garlic bread would have been too much.’ She eyed Lily, busily turning the contents of her own plate into a goulash instead of actually eating it. ‘Not hungry?’ Despite not wanting it, she took a small sip of the wine, which was tart.

Lily raised a few threads of spaghetti to her mouth with her fork and then set them down again. ‘Mum. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’

Esther’s pulse quickened. Here they were, then. At long last. She looked properly at Lily’s pinched face, wishing only that she possessed a magic wand with which to wipe away the wretchedness. ‘I guessed there probably was…’ she ventured, keeping her expression steady, as a new thought flowered inside. An obvious thought. Her own skin had gone to pot at similar times. It wasn’t ideal. It would be tricky. But it would be fine. Lily was shaking her head, tightening her folded arms and chewing at her beautiful lips.

‘It’s Dad.’

‘Dad?’ Esther’s Zen state collapsed in sheer surprise, shattering the comforting chat about accidental pregnancy for which she had been preparing. ‘What about Dad?’

Lily was folding her entire mouth inwards, in a bid not to cry, Esther realised, reaching past their plates and catching hold of a hand, which was immediately pulled away. ‘He has… has…’