‘I always feel old when it’s your birthday, because if my little sister is notching up the years . . .’

‘I get it.’ She nodded. ‘How’s Nanette?’

‘She’s okay – heading off to a retreat in Thailand where they treat people who are . . .’

Lactose intolerant! Bess mouthed the words along with her brother.

‘. . . lactose intolerant. Hopefully, it’ll help.’

‘Fingers crossed.’ Decades ago, he would have recognised her sarcasm and laughed along, and then she would make some vegan-related quip, but those days were sadly long gone.

‘How are M— Mum and Dad?’

‘Great, good, you know, same old.’ Nothing would give them greater pleasure than to see their son, but this she was unable to say, as she was the reason Philip was more or less estranged from them. The shame she felt at having been outed in the cruellest way, labelled ‘a slut, easy, a tart’, and worse still, knowing that these words had been delivered straight into her brother’s ear while his friends snickered into their palms, was enough to cause a sudden silence, where Bess sensed the crackle of awkwardness down the line. Her shoulders hunched and her stomach seized with a guilt that was as familiar as it was unwelcome. Philip, it seemed, had found it easier to stay away over the years. She understood and could not pretend that his absence wasn’t tinged with some small degree of relief, but this too she knew needed to be rectified, and it all started with being open with Mario.

‘Did you get a harmonica rendition today?’ he asked, a little more jovially.

‘I did indeed.’ A wave of sadness lapped at her memories, picturing Philip on his birthdays, his long fringe hanging over his eyes and his reluctant attendance in the kitchen as their dad belted out his best version of ‘Happy Birthday’ and their mum danced in little circles in her nightie while beating the pancake batter.

‘Anyway, I’d better let you get on,’ he said.

Bess gave a wry smile, knowing that what he meant was, I’d better get on, I want to end the call, having used something similar herself with Michelle earlier.

‘Thanks for calling, Philip. Give my love to Nanette and tell her thank you for the flowers and good luck in Thailand.’

‘I will.’ And just like that he was gone.