Esther moaned softly, stifling retorts as Lucas continued to expand on his theme. Exams – academic success – were how he judged everything; taking him on about it was like wrestling concrete. She sought refuge instead in the view of her long, narrow, brambled garden through the landing window, where something was moving through the thickets, making them bounce. A fox probably, but Esther thought instead of a predatory fish nosing its way through a thick green sea, and then of Chris Mews. Hunter or suitor? And was there even a difference? Despite the firmness of her farewell follow-up message after their date, he had texted several times now, saying absurd things like he ‘missed’ her, and wanted to ‘try again’. Esther had responded with silence. How could you miss someone you didn’t know? Or have another go at something that hadn’t started?

There was an ugly wasteland beyond her fence, the rail track running through its middle like a spine. The trains had kept her awake at first but now she barely noticed them. And maybe that was the secret to contentment, Esther chided herself: going with the flow instead of trying always to take everything head-on.

Lucas had moved on to the happier subject of Lily’s congregation, as he annoyingly liked to refer to the graduation ceremony taking place on the Saturday immediately after Dylan’s results.

‘I’ve booked Wilsons for lunch – weekends are busy, but they can squeeze us in outside. And I’ve made sure Dylan knows, so he’s not gallivanting about somewhere celebrating. I assume I was right to include Patrick and Astrid?’

‘Yes. Thanks. Mum and Dad have said they are planning to make a weekend of it.’

‘And we’ll go halves on the bill, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Esther bit her lip. This was perfectly fair. Apart from Lucas’s pension, their divorce settlement had been fifty-fifty. Lucas was the last person with whom she could share concerns about how the ‘savings’ account she had set up after the settlement continued to shrink instead of grow, chiselling away at her dream of one day buying a garden flat, ideally with at least two bedrooms and in a slightly less shabby street.

‘With Matteo, that means we’ll be seven in total.’

‘Okay. I see. Good.’ No question of Heidi then, thank God.

Having got herself downstairs, Esther made a cup of tea and perched on her back doorstep, pulling her nightie over her knees. It was only eight o clock, but a low canopy of grey cloud and a heaviness in the air suggested the start of another muggy day. Over the wonky boundary fence to her left, Carmela’s clusters of electric-yellow roses drooped like tired revellers, their petals blowsy. On her other side, through the patched-up jigsaw of slats and wire, she could just make out Dimitri and Sue’s sun loungers and a couple of scattered cans and bottles from the previous day’s alfresco fun.