You turned your head from the spice rack and smiled a dead smile. ‘Before you go to the playroom to see the boys, I could do with a quick word.’

I sighed inside, took off my coat and hung it on the coatrack by the back door. Bracing myself for whatever criticism was coming next. I sat down at the kitchen table and you sat opposite me. As well-groomed as ever, with your sweeping doughnut of a hairstyle. You have come a long way since your humble beginnings, after marrying a wealthy man. Acquiring a strong and expensive sense of taste. Your ladies’ captain of the golf club look. Elegant. Casual. Designer branded. Chinos and blouses. Scarves and lightweight tailored jackets. Pale tasteful eyeshadow. Pale tasteful smile.

‘I’m worried you’re too strict with Ben and Harry,’ you announced.

‘What’s the matter this time?’ I asked.

‘They’re not having enough fun – and I’m worried about their diet. They’re thin as sticks.’

And I knew you had been taking them to McDonald’s, and bribing them with chocolate again.

Before I could reply with my habitual answer about diet – of course they can have an occasional McDonald’s or chocolate treat; everything in moderation, is what I believe – you stood up and walked to our wedding photograph, on the kitchen dresser. You picked it up and cradled it close to your face, studying it intently.

‘You were pretty when you were young, weren’t you?’

You have known me since I was eighteen. I’m forty now. This is the first time you have ever said anything nice about my appearance. Forty is a sensitive age. The modern definition of middle age. So you gave me a compliment in retrospect.

Pretty when I was young.

Implying I have lost my looks. I want to look all right even if I live until I’m eighty. So I locked myself in the downstairs cloakroom, put my head in my hands and cried. After all the unpleasant things you have said and done, this was the first time I had allowed you to make me cry.

But I’ve moved past it now. I know you said it on purpose, but I have forgiven you. I won’t allow sensitivity and vanity to reduce me to tears again. You have issues because you miss Rupert and envy me my time with Miles. I mustn’t forget that I am the lucky one here.

9

Miles

You look so attractive in the candlelight, so quirky in your Indian print T-shirt and dangly earrings. No wonder Aiden likes you so much. You’re warm, you’re good fun. He’s lonely.