My breath explodes outwards. ‘How can I be pregnant when your father has had – ’

Jake coughs warningly. His vasectomy is something he never intends discussing with his children.

‘No, Ali, I’m not pregnant,’ I reply in what I hope is a reassuring tone. ‘We want to talk to you about some… some important changes we intend to make.’

‘Like what?’ Brian looks from Jake to me.

‘We’re going to sell the house.’ Jake finds his voice again. ‘It’s too big for us, now that you’ve all left home.’

‘It was always too big for us,’ Samantha agrees. ‘We should never have left Oakdale. Do you remember the time – ’

‘Selling it is an excellent idea.’ Ali cuts short another trip down memory lane. ‘You said changes. What else?’

‘We’re also selling Tõnality.’ Jake examines his thumb then folds it into a fist. ‘We’ve decided to do something different with our lives.’

‘Different?’ Samantha sounds astonished.

‘I’m hoping to enrol as a mature student and study art,’ I reply.

‘I’m looking at options,’ says Jake. ‘I’m thinking of setting up a recording studio and reforming Shard.’

‘Cool,’ Sam exclaims through a mouthful of Ferrero Rocher but Ali looks equally horrified by this possibility.

‘Reforming Shard at your age, Dad? That’s so embarrassing.’ She gazes sternly at us. ‘This is serious mid-life crisis stuff. Are you going through the change, Mum?’

‘First I’m pregnant and now I’m menopausal.’ It’s important to remain calm. ‘Make up your mind, Ali.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she shrugs. ‘I just figured… you’re at that age.’

‘At our age we still have lives to lead and that’s why we’ve decided…’ Jake falters once again before continuing, ‘We’ve come to an agreement… we’ve decided to separate.’

‘Separate what?’ asks Samantha.

‘Separate from each other,’ he replies.

‘You’re leaving Mum?’ Brian stares disbelievingly at his father.

‘Dad,’ Ali shrills. ‘You can’t! This is too awful.’

Samantha and Sam fix accusatory eyes on Jake.

‘After everything she’s done for you?’ says Samantha. ‘Is that all the thanks she gets? It’s not fair, Dad. It just isn’t.’ She dashes to my chair and flings her arms around me.

‘Too right,’ Sam agrees.

I prise my head loose from Samantha’s fierce embrace and speak with as much composure as possible. ‘Your father and I came to a mutual decision. We’re going to lead our own lives but that won’t make any difference whatsoever to your lives. We’ll have family days together, celebrations, Christmas. Whatever comes up we’ll be together to share it with you. This will be a perfect divorce.’

‘A perfect divorce.’ Brian snorts in disbelief. ‘That’s a paradox if ever I heard one.’

‘You’ll end up hating each other.’ Ali’s voice shakes dangerously. ‘That’s how it always works out.’

‘No, you’re wrong,’ says Jake. ‘This doesn’t mean we stop liking each other or anything ridiculous like that. But we’re still young enough – ’

‘Young?’ The twins, speaking in unison, appear stunned by this notion.

Brian shoves the box of Trivial Pursuits back into the press and Ali shrills, ‘Thanks, folks, for making this the jolliest Christmas ever.’

They go to bed early, close their doors quietly. The atmosphere in the house has changed. The lights on the Christmas tree are too bright, the bedecked garlands mocking this season of good cheer.

My earlier panic has eased now that we’ve told them the truth. I shake my head when Jake asks if I’d like a drink. I don’t want to talk about what we’ve done. He pours a measure of whiskey but leaves it sitting on the arm of his chair. He, too, seems reluctant to talk. What is left to say?

The following day my children treat me with an eggshell caution, convinced I’ll crack and splatter them with my grief.

‘I’ll talk to Dad,’ Ali says when we’re alone in the kitchen. ‘He always listens to me. I can’t bear to think of you being left on your own.’

‘This is what I want, Ali. It’s a mutual decision.’

‘So you keep saying. But you’re allowed to be upset. Leave the stiff upper lip to the Brits.’

Samantha offers a muscular shoulder for me to cry on. ‘I’ve never seen Dad as the marrying kind,’ she says. ‘He’s so… you know…?’ She taps her bottom lip as she searches for the right word. ‘So cool. Those posters of Shard are really retro. He could have made it big, gone international. Maybe he’ll do it this time… now that he’s free to follow his dream.’

I ask if I’m the marrying kind and Samantha, oblivious to the chill in my voice, shrugs. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever thought about it. I mean, you’re my mum.’

My father doesn’t pretend to be surprised when I ring him in Australia. ‘I always knew he’d pull up stakes and leave you sooner or later,’ he says. ‘You’ve got to put your foot down and demand that he pays you proper alimony.’

Why does everyone automatically assume it’s Jake who wants out of our marriage? It implies that he’s the most dissatisfied, most disillusioned, most eager to escape. I’m filled with a childish desire to yell, ‘It was me! My decision. Mine alone!’ Instead, I inquire about the weather. What degree is it in Sydney when they are dining al fresco. Eoin has never lost the Irish compulsion to discuss climatic changes. When we’ve exhausted that topic he hands the phone to Lilian who’s polite, as always. I’ve never accepted her as my stepmother and our conversation is always an exchange of information about furniture and health. She must have overheard the discussion with my father, but our roles are too defined to tackle emotional issues. She tells me about her gall stone operation and the new suite of furniture she bought last week in a Harvey Norman sale. Just before we say goodbye she whispers, ‘Grab life by the balls, Nadine. Don’t let go, even when it shrieks.’

‘I will,’ I promise and we wish each other a happy New Year.

Chapter 15

The wind is brisk this morning, the sky clear with a sharp, wintery blueness when they set off on their hill-walking expedition to the Dublin Mountains. I won’t join them this year. Some traditions have to break and I can’t endure their pity for another day. It’s good to have the house to myself. I tidy the living room and am about to stack the dishwasher when the front doorbell rings three times in quick succession. My heart sinks. Only Eleanor can make chimes sound imperious.

She’s pale but composed as she sweeps past me into the kitchen and places her handbag on the table.

‘Where’s Jake?’ she asks. ‘He’s not answering his mobile.’

‘He must have turned it off when he went out.’ I switch on the kettle. ‘Something to eat, Eleanor? A mince pie, perhaps? Some Christmas cake?’

‘No, thank you. I’m too upset to eat anything.’ She gazes reproachfully at me for ruining her appetite. ‘I would have preferred to speak to you and Jake together but, perhaps, that’s just as well. Woman to woman we can sort this out. I’ve had a most distressing phone call from your father.’

My jaw clenches. Trust Eoin. He could never keep his mouth shut.

‘Tell me he’s mistaken,’ Eleanor makes it sound like a demand. ‘Jake has his failings, like all men, but he’d never walk out on his wife and family.’

‘He’s hillwalking with his family right now.’

‘Don’t be facetious, Nadine. You know what I mean.’

‘We intended telling you ourselves. Eoin had no right to ring you.’

‘So, it’s true? He’s leaving you?’

‘It’s a mutual decision.’ Is my voice developing a sing-song incantation, rather like a Buddhist chant? ‘And the children have accepted – ’

‘I’m glad you mentioned your children.’ Years of battling on the airwaves have perfected Eleanor’s interruptive skills. ‘Have you any idea of the trauma you’re going to cause them if you go ahead with this rash decision? The statistics on broken marriages that First Affiliation have compiled would make your hair stand on end.’