‘He wants some space,’ Viv said again. ‘I know that doesn’t make any of this remotely easy for you, but it is worth trying to maintain a bit of perspective. Yes, go home tomorrow, Esther, but don’t panic is what I mean. Teenagers wouldn’t be teenagers unless they—’

‘Oh yes, like you would know with your four angels…’

Viv jerked back as if she had been slapped. Her lips tightened into a closed thin line. She swigged from the glass of water she had poured. She had done one for Esther too, but it remained untouched. ‘Esther, you’re upset.’

‘Bloody right, I am upset. And I intend to get myself on the very next flight home, whenever it is and whatever it costs. If you don’t mind.’ She began to push her chair back, but Viv’s hand arrived on her arm.

Viv paused, inhaling and exhaling in such an exaggerated display of mustering patience that Esther felt suddenly as if insult was being heaped on injury; as if she weren’t a friend in need, but an annoying, unreasonable patient, being managed. Tolerated. ‘Look, Esther.’ Viv released the words wearily. ‘Book any flight, and I’ll drive you to the airport.’

‘I would hate to be an inconvenience. I’ll sort a taxi.’

‘Esther, for heaven’s sake—’

‘No, Viv. I am finding this pretty hard: to be around you, always dishing out advice for things you’ve never had to face yourself.’

This time Viv opened her mouth to speak and then clammed it shut so tightly it looked as if her face might explode. She snatched her water glass and stalked back into the house. Esther stayed in her chair, hearing murmurings from inside – Viv’s voice uncharacteristically fast and shrill, Brian’s a slower rumble. In her own glass, a small flying insect was doing a frantic breaststroke between efforts to abseil up the sides.

‘I hope she’ll forgive me,’ Esther muttered, aware of Brian having arrived at her side and starting to not quite believe all the things she had just said.

‘Forgiveness? Oh, don’t you worry, she’s good at that. Very good.’ Brian reached across to the spitting candle stump, squeezing its flame between his thumb and forefinger. ‘How else do you think we’ve managed to stay together so long?’ he added with a wry laugh.

‘But she makes it look so easy. All of it. You, the kids, being here. Life.’ Esther flung an arm at the house. The arm felt heavy, and she realised how far she still was from being sober. ‘And I know everything she said makes sense, about sleep and waiting until the morning, but it’s just so…’

‘I tell you what, I’ll make you a cup of tea to take up to bed. Won’t be a tick.’