She’d spent the last twenty-four hours analysing and unpacking every moment of the lunch, sorting out what she did and didn’t have to worry about. There was a lot to work through. Every flickering eyebrow, every moment of discomfort, every slightly-longer-than-normal pause, required analysis and conclusions to be drawn. No wonder she didn’t have time for a job. She had no idea how all those type A lawyerly types did it. For Tully, managing her anxiety was a full-time occupation.

If there had been one highlight of the lunch (and ‘highlight’ was pushing it), it was the declaration that Heather didn’t want children. If she were honest, Tully had never understood those women who didn’t want to have children. She nodded along and loudly championed their rights on social media, and she’d have been aghast if anyone denounced childless women aloud at a dinner party and would immediately take the side of the childless woman who argued her case. But she thought it was strange.

Admittedly, when you looked at it practically, making the decision to have children was much stranger. If her own children were any sort of representation, children were difficult, anxiety-inducing little parasites. Cute, difficult, anxiety-inducing little parasites. Parasites with an aptitude for kindness, poignant observation and the most adorable pad of fat on the backs of their hands that Tully liked to press. ‘Mummy loves my squishy hands,’ Miles said whenever she did it.

In any case, when Heather had refused the champagne, Tully had worried for a moment. She’d been relieved when she finally drank the champagne, even if that didn’t necessarily prove she wasn’t pregnant. After all, Tully herself had had the odd drink during her pregnancy. She’d had four champagnes at Anna and Jake Silverstone’s wedding! (She’d always wondered if that was the reason for Locky’s slightly odd gait.) But still, reassuring. Unless Heather was an alcoholic? This was the problem with your father getting a girlfriend. There was so much you didn’t know. So much to worry about.

Tully put the car into reverse and backed out of her parking space. This morning she’d had a phone call from an old friend, Bec Saunders, asking how the lunch went. Tully had confided in Bec, which, in hindsight, hadn’t been the smartest move. Bec was a sympathetic ear who could be strikingly wise at times, but she was also, at her core, an insatiable gossip. She actually lit up when she heard an interesting tidbit, glowing as if she’d just had a facial at an expensive salon. When Tully had said, ‘I have to tell you something,’ she’d practically levitated! It was an annoying trait, as it made Tully want to share information with her, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

Anyway, Bec had been full of platitudes. ‘Well, do you know what Amber said when I told her? She said it was just not right that your dad is doing this, not while Pam is alive. Viv said the same. We’re all shocked by Stephen’s behaviour. It’s just so unlike him.’ And she laughed, a short, perfunctory laugh. Everyone would be laughing, Tully realised. Heather had made their family a laughing-stock.