‘Excuse me.’ I look up to see a member of staff waiting to get past me. I apologise and move out of the way, remembering that I was heading to the counter to get salt for Celia. Now all I can think about is whether that was my sister on the other end of the line. And if it was, why won’t she say anything? What does she want?

Eighteen

NOW

With the children in bed, Toby and I are in the living room deciding what to watch on TV. I’m in the mood to watch something light-hearted, whereas Toby’s trying to persuade me to watch some dark political thriller that I don’t currently feel my brain can cope with.

I’ve told him about Cassie’s horrible magazine piece and about the phone call, but I played both incidents down as I couldn’t face rehashing them again. I’m fed up with all the uncertainty over my sister and the drama with Cassie. I’ve decided to concentrate on looking forward to our party and trying to forget all my anxieties. I need to focus on the good things in my life. Ten years of a happy marriage and two beautiful children is an incredible thing to celebrate. If my sister wants to get in touch, she will. And, like Celia said, if Cassie wants to be a bitch, then that’s her problem.

I glance down at my phone to see a missed call from my dad. I click on his voicemail message.

‘Hello, Zoe. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Haven’t heard from you in a while.’

As Toby is still scrolling through the Netflix menu, I give my dad a call.

‘Hi, Dad, got your message.’

‘You okay? You sound a bit… down.’

‘I’m okay, just tired.’

‘You sure that’s all it is?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ It’s not like Dad to be overly concerned. ‘Are you still coming to the party on Friday? I know parties aren’t really your thing, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but it would be good to see you there.’

‘Of course I’ll be there. I can sit in the bar and read the paper.’

I give a wry laugh. ‘Perfect.’

‘All right. Got to go. My dinner’s ready and the microwave’s beeping at me.’

‘Okay, Dad. See you Friday.’ I end the call and feel a pang of something. A longing for more simple childhood days. For the times when we used to have family trips out to the beach, and picnics in the park. When Dad would bring home fish and chips after work and Mum would call him her hero. For the times when I never questioned the love and security I felt at home with my parents. I just assumed it would carry on forever. Until it didn’t.