His face clouds and he pushes back his shock of wavy blond hair. ‘I don’t like Maeve.’

‘Don’t you? She’s really nice, Ludo.’ Unlike you, you cat-stoning little brat.

‘She never lets me play.’

‘Oh, that is a shame.’

He fixes me with a cold stare. ‘Where’s Andy?’

It feels like a short, sharp punch. I mean, he’s been gone for nearly five months, and it’s not as if the two of them enjoyed any kind of special rapport. Quite the contrary. ‘Irritating little psycho’ was Andy’s favourite private name for this child.

‘He doesn’t live here anymore,’ I say cheerfully.

‘Why not?’

I stare at this small human, aware that because he had sex with someone else would not be the appropriate response. ‘That just happens sometimes,’ I say, hoping he’ll leave it at that. Any normal child would; i.e. one brought up to be aware of quaint concepts such as manners and politeness.

‘Where does he live now?’ Ludo wants to know.

Search me, mate! ‘In a flat of his own.’

‘Why—’

‘So, bet you’re looking forward to having a new brother or sister!’ I cut in to swerve him off the subject.

That’s taken the wind out of his sails. Ludo digs at the ground with the toe of his trainer and declines to answer.

‘It’ll be lovely, won’t it,’ I chirp, ‘having a new baby around?’ Crying in the night, getting all the attention, making Mummy and Daddy tired?

‘S’pose so,’ he growls.

‘What names d’you like?’

He mumbles something unintelligible.

‘Pardon?’

‘Attic,’ he barks.

‘Attic?’ Why, is that where you’d like to put it, when it’s been born? ‘D’you mean Atticus?’

Ludo nods glumly as he retreats from me, far less eager to chat now he’s no longer probing me about my marital disaster. I turn and make my way back towards the house, feeling for my phone in my pocket. It’s not there. Maybe it fell out when I was downward dogging.

I go back and scan the lawn for it. I really must drag the mower out soon. That was always Andy’s job and from now on, obviously, it’ll be mine. Everything is my job now.

‘Are you getting divorced?’ Ludo yells from the back step.

Jesus Christ, where the hell are his parents? Miraculously, a tinkling sound starts up on the lawn, alerting me to my phone’s location.

I snatch it and take the call. ‘So how’s the weekend of freedom?’ Penny asks. I can tell immediately that she’s a little sparkly with drink.

‘Oh, fine,’ I reply. ‘Just out in the garden, chatting to Ludo.’

She chuckles. ‘That twisted little miscreant. Is he being as unpleasant as usual?’

He is studying me intensely from his back door, hands thrust into his shorts pockets. ‘Yes, pretty much business as usual here.’