‘In here, love!’ she called out, settling back into the corner of the sofa as he walked in. She wanted him to see her the way she wanted to be again: not as an atmosphere hoover or a mood magnet, but someone instead who was optimistic about her future, happy for all she had, grateful that the fog of melancholy was lifting.

‘Cup of tea?’ She unfurled her legs, ready to move if he wanted a drink.

‘No, I’m okay.’ He raised his hand, almost a subconscious command for her to stay put, and sat on the chair by the side of the fireplace, leaning forward with his arms on his legs, as he often did, so the smallest possible area of his grubby end-of-day body and plaster-spattered clothes came in contact with the almond-coloured upholstery. Bess appreciated the consideration, but then that was Mario all over – considerate.

‘No chips?’ she said to make conversation, stating the obvious.

‘No, no chips.’ He ran his palm over his stubbled chin. ‘I thought it was a bit early, plus I wanted to talk to you.’

His tone was a little cool. Her smile faltered – she understood. He was still smarting from the misunderstanding this morning.

‘Well, I want to talk to you too.’ I really do, and I’m plucking up the courage . . . Courage . . .

He nodded. ‘So how was your day?’ His expression was drawn, as if he were figuring how to get to the point, and it unnerved her.

‘Okay. You know . . .’ She shrugged.

‘Your mum and dad on good form?’

I think her and Mario might be having marital problems . . . Her mum’s whispers rang inside her head. Not any more, Mum. I’m going to set things right.

‘Yep. Food was ropey and Mum was obsessed with a bloody voucher Philip had sent, as you can imagine.’

‘Saint Philip of Knutsford?’ he smiled weakly.

‘The very same.’ It felt mean, but it was easier to go with the flow, letting her husband assume Philip was an aloof stuck-up shit who considered himself a cut above, unwilling to come and visit or overly engage, but she knew differently and hoped that when Mario knew the full story he might feel differently too. ‘That was him on the phone, actually, just before you arrived, wishing me a happy birthday. And you’ll never guess, my old schoolfriend called me today, Michelle – you’ve heard me talk about her?’

Again he nodded.