I know that by the end of the working week, Shelley is always pretty shredded, and that she and her partner Laurence cherish their low-key weekends with their dogs. Isla, a single mum whose three teenagers still live with her, is Curator of Natural History at a rather dusty, somewhat forgotten museum, and seems to spend every spare moment ferrying her offspring about and basically looking after everyone. Whilst I love seeing my friends, I’m aware that any message sent now would have that distinct ‘Help, I don’t know what to do with myself!’ tone to it. And I’m determined not to be that person, the woman who can’t survive alone for more than a few hours. But I could call Spencer, I decide. Surely he’ll be delighted to hear from me on a Saturday afternoon?

‘Hi, darling,’ I chirp. ‘Just wondered how you are.’

‘Hey, Mum!’ He sounds surprised, and no wonder, as we normally text unless there’s something specific to discuss. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes, great, thanks.’ I launch into a preamble about asking how he is, how work’s been lately, which bands he’s been working with and how his flatmates are – aware that I am building up to the thrilling suggestion that I jump into my car and drive down to Newcastle to visit him right now. He’d love that, wouldn’t he, his mother arriving with hardly any notice, looking a bit deranged?

‘Are you out at the moment?’ I ask, suddenly aware of the jovial background chatter and faint music playing. But it’s only lunchtime. I know he usually works late on Friday nights and had assumed he’d just be getting up.

‘Yeah, there’s a few of us out,’ he says. ‘We’re in this lovely beer garden, just having a few drinks.’ A few drinks, in the daytime, while I’ve been mopping the floor?

‘That sounds nice,’ I remark.

‘It is, yeah.’ And I need to go now, is what he’s trying to convey. ‘It’s Millie’s birthday,’ he adds.

‘Oh, is it? Wish her happy birthday from me, love. I was only wondering how you are. I miss you.’

‘Miss you too, Mum. And thanks, I’ll tell her. See you soon, yeah?’

Hang on a minute! How about I nip down right now and take you both out to dinner; i.e. bribe you to spend time with me? ‘Yes, see you soon then, darling,’ I mutter. ‘Bye.’

We finish the call and I wonder what the heck to do next, aware that this is pretty dysfunctional, this not knowing how to occupy myself. It’s just that, since Andy and I broke up, I realise I’ve hardly been alone like this. I’ve been at work or with friends or, more likely, with Izzy. If she’s been out with her dad, it’s only been for a few hours.