Miles is staring into the middle of the kitchen, in a daydream. No doubt contemplating one of his obscure philosophical ideas. His research is so obscure and irrelevant. He’s lucky to be paid for it. Is that why he puts up with Saffron? Because she’s the one who earns the money? I’m sorry he feels the need to stick with her. I have more than enough money to give him. My husband, Rupert, made so much. Surely he knows he doesn’t have to put up with a selfish bint for money?

Hayley is glancing across at Miles. She never takes her eyes off him for long. We watch my son finish his breakfast, gulp the end of his coffee, and suddenly snap his focus back into the room. He stands up, pulls the car keys from the drawer behind him, twisting them around his middle finger.

‘Come on, boys. Whose turn is it to sit in the front?’

‘Saffron doesn’t let anyone sit in the front,’ I remind him. Just to make sure he realises how difficult his wife can be with anyone who tries to help with the children.

‘You don’t need to tell Daddy that. You’re a spoilsport,’ Ben announces.

‘Me, a spoilsport?’

‘Yes, Granny. You always let me sit in the front so why do you have to spoil it?’

‘I rather think it’s your mother who’s the spoilsport,’ I snap.

‘Come on, Ben – no one’s a spoilsport,’ Miles says. ‘I’ll talk to Mum. I expect she knows you sit in the front. Mums have eyes in the backs of their heads.’

‘I love my mummy so much. I just don’t want to get in trouble.’

Miles puts his arm around Ben and holds Harry’s hand as they leave. ‘We all love Mummy and I promise she won’t be cross.’

Hayley clears the breakfast dishes and I help her. We listen to the radio in companionable silence. The Today programme is still on, repeating itself. Going around in circles. Not really designed to be listened to for the full three hours. But it is a comfortable background noise, part of my daily routine.

When the last bowl is in the dishwasher, and the kitchen is wiped clean, just as Hayley turns to leave, ‘Why don’t you come for a walk around the garden with me?’ I suggest. She hesitates. ‘Or are you too busy?’ I continue.

She shifts her weight awkwardly. ‘Well, Saffron has left a few chores for me.’

I put my head on one side and shrug. ‘I’m a chore, aren’t I?’

Hayley smiles. ‘I wouldn’t perceive you like that.’

‘How would you perceive me?’

‘Well, for a start you’re beautiful.’

‘No one has said that to me for a long time,’ I reply, my heart melting at her kind words. ‘Come on, humour me, come for a walk in the garden.’