‘He doesn’t want to talk to you. That’s awful isn’t it? Losing contact with your child.’

‘It’s been a hard day, Derek; a very sad day,’ she said.

‘Indeed, and hugging your baby would help, no doubt. I understand. In fact, I feel the same. I need to hug my boys.’

‘Are you going there now?’

‘Thanks for your concern, Mary.’ He hung up.

Walking into the first bar she found, Mary rang the police and Nel to inform them that McLaverty was about to breach the bail condition prohibiting him from going near his ex-wife’s address.

‘Sambuca,’ Mary said to the bartender. She gulped it down, grimaced, and raced to the toilet.

15

Mary drove home with all the windows open and with tears streaming, freaking out every time she saw a police car or heard a siren. The first thing she did when she got in was light a pre-rolled joint, which she held with a violently shaking hand and sucked the life out of. The landline was ringing. The landline never rang. Mary moved towards it as if she were a young blonde in the first scene of a horror movie.

It was Roddie. He’d been worried about her for days, had finally managed to cancel his last events and was on his way home. ‘I know what’s happened. I’ve spoken to Jack. He’s fine. Turn all your devices off. Don’t read any of it. It’s nonsense and you’re going to be okay. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

Roddie existed: thank God. It took her a while to make a word. ‘Promise?’

‘I promise. Tagging you was his manipulative grande finale. Prize arsehole. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Go to the doctor first thing, please. Stay in and rest till I’m there.’

‘I’ve got a report and a visit.’

‘You’re leaving! You don’t need this bullshit anymore. Boarding, gotta go. Don’t go online. I love you Mary Shields.’

And with that, her name sounded light again.

Mary woke to Samantha’s operatic orgasm. Sex and the City had been on repeat all night.