‘Ohh …’ He darts me a thank-you-very-much-for-dragging-our-daughter-into-this look, as if it’s my fault. ‘I just need to sort things out, love, and make the place nice for you.’

She frowns at him. ‘I don’t mind what it’s like.’

‘No. No, I realise that,’ he says, cheeks flushed and now seemingly in an almighty hurry to cart his stuff out to his car.

I follow him outside. ‘Andy?’

‘I’m not really in the mood for this right now,’ he huffs, slamming the boot shut.

‘Not in the mood for what?’

‘For this interrogation …’

I look at him, this man who created such a fuss about the unbuttered scone regime when people are starving in the world and would be bloody delighted with a plain pastry from a hospital canteen, and who lied to me horribly over months and months. Whatever possessed me to fall in love with him? Was I insane? ‘It’s only your daughter who wants to visit you,’ I snap. ‘Not the bloody Duchess of Kent—’ I turn on my heel and start to march back towards the house.

‘Viv!’ he calls after me.

‘What?’ I stop and glare back at him.

‘Please don’t storm off like that. Can we talk for a minute?’

‘I’m going inside. Izzy should be in bed.’

‘I really do mean just for a minute.’

I sigh heavily and plod back towards him at his car.

‘Look …’ He pauses. ‘I’m sorry about all this. I will ask her over, but just not at the moment, okay?’

‘Whatever,’ I huff, maturely.

‘But, um … I did want to ask you something.’ He pauses again. ‘D’you mind if I take her away for a week—’

‘A week?’ I exclaim. ‘You mean a whole week?’

He nods. ‘Er … yeah. I haven’t mentioned it to her yet, obviously. I wanted to check with you first.’

‘Oh.’ I feel hollow. So this is what we do now, I realise; we take our daughter on separate holidays. Of course we do. What did I expect? ‘Well, um, yes. I suppose that’s okay. Where are you thinking of going?’

‘Just to Lewis and Nina’s. They’re having a bit of a gathering up there.’

‘A gathering for a whole week?’ Lewis is Andy’s youngest brother. He and his wife run an acclaimed restaurant perched on the shores of Loch Fyne. People often imagine that the Highlands are all about fish and chips and pie suppers, basically carbs dowsed with ketchup and vinegar, but The Nest is terribly chi-chi – all samphire and edible flowers served by bearded hipster types. As a family we’ve had many happy trips there over the years, staying at their pretty white cottage, and messing around with their rowing boat on the loch.

I try not to think about those blissful days as Andy goes on: ‘Remember they were building those chalets? Sorry, eco-lodges, I should say …’