She beams at me. ‘We had a big tin of tomato soup so I heated that up. Brian came into the kitchen as I was ladling it into bowls – pretty, hand-painted bowls from Marrakesh – and said, “God, Penny, is that the best you can do?” And I said, “No, don’t worry, darling …” And I grabbed a lump of Cheddar from the fridge and waved it in his face and said, “I’ll put some fucking grated cheese on it.”’

Izzy and Maeve are thrilled by this, and it feels like the entire ice cream queue has swivelled to glare at us as we crack up. My God, I am actually laughing. My husband has been shagging someone else, someone far more beautiful and successful than I could ever hope to be – but I can still laugh so much, I’m in danger of falling onto the ground.

I’m so grateful to Penny for stopping me from thinking about Estelle Lang for about ten seconds.

Chapter Seven

Monday, February 25

All day at work, I play over what Penny said: that my kids would be fine, and that sometimes, breaking up works out better for everyone.

But then, Penny’s not me. We are entirely different. It’s not that I view myself as a better mother; just that I am incapable of being as relaxed as she seemed to be. I’m a worrier and a fusspot, of the belief that I must do my absolute best at all times, and that if I happen to get anything wrong I’ll be judged and reported and Izzy will be wrestled away from me and put into care.

It sounds mad, but this is the situation we modern mothers have put ourselves in. Parenting Seventies-style was very different.

My dad used to smoke in the car with Mum and me in it, and no one thought that was wrong. Mum once broke a thermometer and gave me the mercury to play with. I loved that mercury like Izzy loves her knitted sandwich! And no one worried about children’s nutrition. It didn’t seem to occur to anyone that they might need something called ‘vitamins’ and ‘not too much sugar’. Penny told me recently that, when Nick was about five, he refused to eat anything but butterscotch Angel Delight – for a whole year.

‘What did you do?’ I asked, aghast.

‘What could I do?’ She shrugged. ‘I let him!’

‘But … what about his health? His teeth? And nutrients?’ Although amazed and impressed, I also felt a little outraged on his behalf, even though he’s now apparently a fully functioning man in his forties, having carved out a successful career as a documentary maker in New Zealand.

Penny laughed. ‘I was running seventeen shops, Viv. We had new stock dropping into these stores every two weeks. I didn’t have time to arrange vegetables in little faces on his plate.’