We emerged into the afternoon light dazed and emotionally spent. ‘Right,’ said Mum, tucking her handbag firmly under her arm (some habits die hard). ‘Tea at a hotel. C’mon. We’ll make a day of it.’

We couldn’t get into any of the grand ones, but we found a nice hotel near Haymarket with a tea selection that Mum approved of. She asked for a table in the middle of the room and sat there remarking on every person who walked in, noting their dress, whether they looked like they came from ‘abroad’, their lack of wisdom in bringing small children, or little dogs that looked like rats.

‘Well, look at us!’ she would exclaim every now and then, when it grew quiet. ‘Isn’t this nice?’

We ordered English Breakfast tea (Mum: ‘That’s just posh for normal tea, yes? None of those weird flavours?’) and the ‘Afternoon Tea Fancy Plate’ and we ate tiny crustless sandwiches, little scones that weren’t as good as Mum made and cakes in gold foil. Mum talked for half an hour about Billy Elliot and how she thought we should all do this once a month or so and she bet that my father would love it if we could get him down here.

‘How is Dad?’

‘Oh, he’s fine. You know your father.’

I wanted to ask, but was too afraid. When I looked up, she was gazing at me a little beadily. ‘And no, Louisa, I am not doing my legs. And, no, he’s not happy. But there are more important things in life.’

‘What did he say about you coming here today?’

She snorted, and covered it up with a little coughing fit. ‘He didn’t believe I was going to. I told him about it when I brought him up his tea this morning, and he started to laugh, and if I’m honest with you it annoyed me so much I got dressed and I just went.’

My eyes widened. ‘You didn’t tell him?’

‘I already had told him. He’s been leaving messages on this phone thing all day, the eejit.’ She peered at the screen, then tucked it neatly back into her pocket.

I sat and watched her fork another little scone delicately onto her plate. She closed her eyes in pleasure as she took a bite. ‘This is just marvellous.’

I swallowed. ‘Mum, you’re not going to get divorced, are you?’

Her eyes shot open. ‘Divorced? I’m a good Catholic girl, Louisa. We don’t divorce. We just make our men suffer for all eternity!’

I paid the bill, and we disappeared to the Ladies, a cavernous room of walnut-coloured marble and expensive flowers, overseen by a silent attendant who stood by the basins. Mum washed her hands twice, thoroughly, then sniffed the various hand lotions lined up against the sink, pulling faces in the mirror depending on what she liked. ‘I shouldn’t say so, given my opposition to the patriarchy and all, but I do wish one of you girls had a nice man.’

‘I’ve met someone,’ I said, before I realized I’d said it.

She turned to me, a lotion bottle in her hand. ‘You haven’t!’

‘He’s a paramedic.’

‘Well, that’s smashing. A paramedic! That’s almost as useful as a plumber. So when are we going to meet him?’

I faltered. ‘Meet him? I’m not sure it’s …’

‘It’s what?’

‘Well. I mean, it’s early days. I’m not sure it’s that kind of –’

My mother unscrewed the lid of her lipstick and stared into the mirror. ‘It’s just for sex, is that what you’re saying?’

‘Mum!’ I glanced at the attendant.

‘Well, what are you saying?’

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for a real relationship just yet.’

‘Why? What else have you got going on? Those ovaries won’t go in the freezer, you know.’

‘So why didn’t Treena come?’ I said, hurriedly changing the subject.

‘She couldn’t find a sitter for Thom.’

‘You said she was busy.’

Mum’s eyes darted across to my reflection. She pressed her lips together and snapped her lipstick back into her handbag. ‘She seems to be a little cross with you right now, Louisa.’ She activated Maternal X-ray Vision. ‘Have you two had a falling out?’

‘I don’t know why she always has to have opinions about everything I do.’ I heard my own voice, the sulky tones of a twelve-year-old.

She fixed me with a look.

So I told her. I sat up on the marble basin, and Mum took the easy chair, and I told her about the job offer and why I couldn’t possibly take it, how we had lost Lily and found her again, and how she was finally beginning to come out of the other side. ‘I’ve arranged for her to meet Mrs Traynor again. So we’re moving forward. But Treena just won’t listen, although if Thom were going through half the same thing she’d be the first person saying I couldn’t walk away from him.’

I felt relieved telling my mother. She, of all people, would understand the ties of responsibility. ‘So that’s why she’s not talking to me.’

My mother was staring at me.

‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, have you lost your mind?’

‘What?’

‘A job in New York with all the trimmings and you’re sticking around here to work in that godawful place at the airport? Did you hear this?’ She turned to the attendant. ‘I can’t believe she’s my own daughter. Honest to God, I wonder what happened to the brains she was born with.’