‘At last,’ Marcia announced, rolling her eyes as she opened the door to Helen. ‘I thought you’d got lost. You could have called.’

‘I had to get petrol,’ Helen said. ‘I came as quick as I could.’

‘Ignore her,’ John said as he took Helen’s coat. ‘She’s just stroppy because the babysitter cancelled. Thanks so much for this, Helen. You’re doing us a real favour.’

‘I’m not a baby,’ Zac called from the front room. ‘I’m 14. I don’t need a sitter.’

Marcia mimed strangulation and Helen blinked in response.

Zac was John’s son from a previous marriage and she had met him only twice before; both times he’d been engrossed in a book and barely even acknowledged her.

‘It’ll be nice for you two to get to know each other,’ Marcia had said on the phone earlier. ‘Now that you’re down here for good, I mean.’

‘I don’t know, Marcia. I-,’

‘Helen, please. I’m asking you one favour.’ She sighed.

‘Who was always there for you when you were getting divorced?’

‘I never rang you-,’

‘Oh, Helen, let’s not split hairs. Can you be here for seven?’

Now, Marcia glanced pointedly at her Gucci watch. ‘Look, we need to go. We’re late already. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, Hel.’ Her eyes dipped to Helen’s waistband which, Helen knew, had expanded in the couple of months since they’d seen one another. ‘I got a Weight Watchers ready meal in especially.’

Catching Helen’s eye, John shook his head and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

‘Come on John,’ Marcia called from the driveway. ‘Christ, it’s like pushing a car up a hill getting you out of the house.’

Zac was on the sofa with a thick paperback when Helen walked into the living room feeling like an intruder.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Oh, hi.’ Zac’s eyes flicked up for a second, then back down to his book.

Deciding that proximity might not be welcomed, Helen took a seat in the armchair beside the sofa and took the Harlan Coben thriller she was reading from her handbag. As she did so, she noticed Zac’s glance in the corner of her eye.

‘I can’t believe you’re reading that,’ he said, holding up his book to show her the cover.

Helen laughed. ‘Snap,’ she said, pressing her copy against his.

‘Snap.’ Zac smiled. ‘How far are you?’

Helen tipped the book to show him her bookmarked place.

‘Have you got to the bit in the lighthouse yet?’

Helen nodded. ‘Did you think it was going to be her?’

‘No way. And the bit on the train? With the woman in the wig?’

‘Didn't see that coming.’

‘Nor me,’ Zac said. Then, ‘Have you read any of his other books?’

‘Most of them.’

Zac laughed. ‘That’s hilarious.’

Is it? Helen wanted to ask. Why? But she thought it best not to court conflict.

‘Morticia thinks books like this are trash,’ Zac said.

Helen frowned. Morticia?

‘Oh, Marcia!’

She let out a laugh, then covered her mouth with her hand.

‘Sorry,’ Zac said. ‘I shouldn't have said that. It wasn’t very nice.’

Helen cleared her throat. ‘No, it wasn’t very nice. But stepmothers have a history of being a little unpopular.’

Zac placed his book down on the glass coffee table in front of them. ‘How come I haven’t met you more often?’

‘Well, mostly because I was living in Edinburgh. And you’re down here in Cornwall.’

‘Aren’t you and Marcia close?’

Helen smiled. ‘I feel like I’m being interrogated,’ she said teasingly.

Zac flushed red. ‘Sorry,’ he said, picking up his book again. ‘Dad always says I ask too many questions.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ Helen said. ‘We haven’t always been close, but now I’m down here, maybe things will change.’

Zac considered this for a moment. ‘I’d like that.’

Helen smiled. ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘I think I’d like that a lot.’