‘Of course. As agreed.’ I shake her hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Sally.’

Pleasure is a bit of a stretch, but needs must.

‘You too, Eileen.’

I march back to Leena’s flat.

‘All sorted with Sally in Flat 6,’ I tell Fitz, sweeping past to Leena’s bedroom.

Fitz watches me go by with his mouth hanging open.

‘How do you do that?’ he says.

*

A few nights later, Tod and I are side by side in the bedroom of his very grand townhouse, propped up on the pillows. Lying tangled in each other’s arms becomes slightly less practical when you’ve both got bad backs. That’s not to say this isn’t delightfully intimate: Tod’s arm is pressed against mine, his skin warm from lovemaking, and he’s shifted the blankets over to my side because he knows how chilly my toes get.

It’s dangerously intimate, in fact. I could get quite used to this.

A phone rings; I don’t move, because it’s always Tod’s, and it’s usually somebody very important on the other end of the line – a producer, or an agent. He reaches for the phone on the bedside table, but its screen is black. I glance over at mine: Marian calling.

I scrabble to reach it.

‘Hello?’

‘Mum?’ says Marian.

She starts to cry.

‘Marian, love, what is it?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I’ve been trying so hard to give you some space. But … I just … I can’t …’

‘Oh, love, I’m so sorry.’ I slide my feet out from under the covers and try to reach for my clothes. ‘You’ve not had …’

‘No, no, nothing like that, Mum. And I’ve been looking after myself, I promise – I’ve been eating properly, doing my yoga …’

I breathe out. It’s not for me, all that standing on one leg and bowing, but yoga has helped Marian enormously. It’s the one fad that’s stuck, not just for months but for years – she started when Carla was first diagnosed. When Marian stops doing yoga, I know things are bad.

‘That’s good, love. Has something happened with Leena, then?’

‘We had this awful shouting match in the middle of the road on Monday night, and all week I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about how she … she’s so angry, Mum. She hates me. I wasn’t there when she needed me, and now – now I’ve lost her.’

‘She doesn’t hate you, love, and you’ve not lost her. She’s hurting and angry and she’s not acknowledging it yet, but she’ll get there. I’d hoped this time with the two of you together would help, but …’

I sort through the pile of my and Tod’s clothes in a frenzy, frustrated with my slowness, trying to keep the phone to my ear with one hand.

‘I’ll come home,’ I say.

‘No, no, you mustn’t do that.’ Her voice is thick with tears. ‘I’m all right. I’m not – having one of my, you know, my moments.’

But who’s to say she won’t, any day now? And if Leena’s shouting at her in the street, who’s going to be there to keep Marian in one piece?

‘I’m coming back and that’s that. See you soon, love.’ I hang up before she can protest.

When I turn, Tod is looking at me with raised eyebrows.

‘Don’t say anything,’ I warn him.

He looks taken aback. ‘I wasn’t going to interfere,’ he says.

‘No talking about family,’ I say. ‘We both agreed. Boundaries.’

‘Of course.’ Tod pauses, watching me carefully as I dress. I wish I could move more quickly. ‘But …’

I pick up my bag from the chair by the door. ‘I’ll call you,’ I say, as I pull the door closed behind me.

Once I’m outside Tod’s house, I find a park bench and settle down to take a breath. Tod lives in a posh part of town called Bloomsbury – there are lots of green spaces edged with black iron fences, and expensive cars with tinted windows.

I can’t fathom a version of the Cotton family where we have screaming matches in the street. That’s not how we do things. How have we come to this?

I should never have left them alone together. It was pure selfishness, this trip to London, and I’m glad Marian’s brought me to my senses before she gets any worse up there in Hamleigh without me.

The pigeons tap around my feet as I rummage in my handbag until I find my diary. Well, Rupert’s invited us for drinks at his and Aurora’s flat tonight, to celebrate getting permission to launch the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club. I can’t back out of that now, Letitia won’t go unless I do, and she needs this. I’ll leave tomorrow. That’s that. I’ll call Leena in the morning.

I’m not sure I can hold my temper if I speak to her now.

*

When Letitia opens the door I can tell right away how nervous she is. Her shoulders are drawn up to her ears, her chin down to her chest.

‘Come on,’ I say bracingly. I’m not in the right frame of mind for this event either, but we made a commitment, and besides, I am proud of what we’re doing with that space downstairs, even if I won’t get to see the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club come to life.

‘Do we have to?’ she says mournfully.

‘Of course we do!’ I say. ‘Come on. The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave.’

Martha and Fitz are coming too, though I’m not sure Martha can get down the stairs these days, with that enormous bump of hers. She can’t manage the journey into the office now, so she’s usually set up on the sofa with her feet on the coffee table and her laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. And there’s still no word from Yaz on when she’s coming home. I purse my lips as we head down towards Rupert and Aurora’s flat. I’d quite like to give that Yaz a piece of my mind.

‘Mrs Cotton!’ Aurora says as she throws open the door to the flat. ‘I owe you an abject apology for my hangry behaviour when we first met.’

‘Oh, hello,’ I say, as she sweeps me in for a hug. She has a strong Italian accent; perhaps ‘hangry’ is an Italian term, although it doesn’t really sound like one.

‘And you must be Letitia,’ Aurora says, cupping Letitia’s face in her hands. ‘What magnificent earrings!’

Letitia’s eyes dart towards me with unmistakable panic. I think the face-touching might have been a little much for her. I take Aurora’s arm and give it an encouraging tug.

‘Do show me around your lovely flat, won’t you?’ I say.

‘Of course! Your flatmates are already here,’ she says, gesturing to the stylish grey sofa, where Martha has already settled, feet up in Fitz’s lap. I feel a startling pang of fondness as I watch the two of them bickering idly with one another. I’ve not known them long. I ought not to have got so attached; tonight, I’ll have to tell them I’m leaving.

‘This is my latest sculpture,’ Aurora is telling me, and I give a little squawk as I follow her gaze. It’s a gigantic penis made out of marble, with a marble parrot sat on the top. Or the … tip, I suppose I mean.

I can’t help myself. I glance over at Letitia. ‘A sign from the beyond,’ I whisper to her; her lips twitch and she disguises a giggle as a cough.