‘Now I’ll describe the investigative reporter Tacitus,’ Marco declared, ‘and his story about the young emperor Nero, in love with his generation’s Kim Kardashian.’

‘There’s even more drama to that story,’ I reminded him. ‘When Nero’s mother wouldn’t let him marry Poppy, he had her murdered.’

‘You haven’t forgotten your history, have you? Despite being so busy dealing with infants.’

‘I’ve forgotten a lot, actually. Children are a worry.’

Immediately I wished I could take those words back. I didn’t want Marco to know about Caleb. I needed this escape. But Marco laughed and brushed away any possible unpleasant interpretation of my words. ‘I’ll send you a link. Let me know what you think.’

After we disconnected, I followed his link and read.

AD59. At twenty-two, Nero had been emperor for six years. His mother Agrippina, still only forty-five, had as much power as him. Realising he couldn’t achieve independence while she still lived, Nero planned an act of premeditated murder. His first attempt at murdering his mother had tragicomical undertones. A boat was built for Agrippina, one designed to fall apart on the Bay of Naples. The boat did collapse, but Agrippina was saved by two surprisingly mundane things: a sofa that got in the way of a collapsing ceiling, and a case of mistaken identity. One of her friends, hoping to be pulled from the water by rescuers, claimed that she herself was Agrippina. Romans had fame but they didn’t have Instagram; no one knew what Agrippina really looked like. Hired assassins believed the unfortunate woman’s lie and killed her instead. Agrippina survived.

Instagram and Twitter weren’t the only communication networks to let Nero down. The gods themselves could be ambiguous. Tacitus was certain the good weather Agrippina encountered on the Bay of Naples was a message of divine displeasure at Nero’s murderous plan. But the Emperor listened to other advice (in modern times, it might have been because he watched current affairs on another channel) and as a result, developed a back-up strategy. He sent an assassin to stab his mother. And Agrippina, knowing the attacker had been sent by her son, requested that he stab her first in her womb.

‘Are you still planning your Italian trip?’ Jeannie asked from the doorway.

I glanced over my shoulder. Jeannie could see my screen.

‘I’ve postponed it for a while. Is everything all right?’

‘I’m concerned about Billy Griffith. He hasn’t spoken all day.’

‘I’ve hardly heard a word from him since prep.’

‘It’s more than that. He doesn’t even speak when asked a direct question.’

‘We’ll keep an eye on him,’ I decided. ‘It’ll take forever for the kids to get over this.’