I turn to her bedroom door as Andy appears, having come up to say goodnight to Izzy too. It’s all so ordinary, I muse as he hugs her. Just a dad saying goodnight to his daughter. A month ago, I thought my marriage was over and now here we are, still together, still a family.

It’s true, what I said to Izzy just then. I do feel very lucky indeed.

Early hours of Monday, March 25

When terrible things happen you sometimes have the weirdest thoughts. You don’t think about big things. You think about trivial details, like: I could have taken the time to explain why my omelettes are so good. If Andy had really wanted to know, I could have gone into the importance of the right kind of frying pan (i.e. a really good non-stick one), the fact that you don’t need much butter – a small knob will suffice – and that the pan must be smokingly hot before the beaten eggs are tipped in.

I might also have mentioned, had he been genuinely interested, that as soon as it starts to set, the eggy mixture should be dragged to the centre with a spatula, and the pan tipped and swirled, so the omelette cooks as quickly as possible: speed is of the essence. But the truth is, Andy’s interest was faked.

He didn’t give a stuff about my omelettes, and nor was he telling the truth when he’d vowed that all communications with Estelle Lang had stopped. They’ve been in touch the whole time and, he’s so sorry, he tells me now, as he hurriedly packs a bag, but they are in love and he needs to be with her.

And that’s why he is leaving me.

Part Two

After

Chapter Nine

Four months later: Saturday, July 20

The rice is nearly cooked, my very own four-foot-tall, gap-toothed TV chef says with a flourish of her wooden spoon, and now we’re adding the pine kernels, the salt and the sugar to the frying pan and giving it a big stir … Izzy looks up with a smile. Since her father left another milk tooth has gone. The sugar, she adds, as though sensing my note of surprise, makes it nicer to eat. Now, we’re adding some, uh … She picks up a clump of greenery and frowns at it. Basil?

‘Dill,’ I prompt her.

We add the dill and the parsley and cinnamon, uh … nearly forgot the raisins!