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for this evening. She’s been away all week and we need to, you know . . . catch up.’ He said it in an unnecessarily euphemistic way and Zoe felt her chocolate biscuit repeating on her.
    ‘Oh? She’s been away?’ At least she wasn’t muscling in on the boys’ weekend, she told herself. At least there’s that.
    ‘Yes,’ said David, meeting her gaze with a certain amount of smug confidence. ‘But I thought it might be nice if she came along with us when we go to Alton Towers next time. We might even bring her two, though they’re a bit older. Make it a family outing.’
    Zoe’s mouth went dry. ‘We need to talk about that. About how we explain new relationships to the boys. Didn’t the counsellor say it’s best to leave it until they’re OK with the idea of the divorce? Are you sure it’s the right time? Do you even know Jennifer’s children?’
    ‘It’s been a year, Zoe,’ David interrupted her with a wave of his hand. ‘We’ve all got to move on. And I don’t like the implication that Jennifer is some kind of flash-in-the-pan rebound thing. We’re very serious about each other.’
    Zoe took a deep breath and tried to quell her rising panic. This wasn’t the time. The boys were squealing, there was a whimpering noise coming from the back of the car, she hadn’t even thought about the prospect of Alton Towers so soon after Legoland. There was enough hysteria in the house as it was. ‘David,’ she said, as emphatically as she could. ‘This is something we need to discuss properly, not something you throw at me two minutes before you drop the kids off.’
    The trouble was, Zoe was confrontation-phobic with a heart softer than melted ice cream. And David knew it – he’d always known it. That was precisely why he was doing this.
    ‘Spencer! Come out of the road!’ she called. ‘Leo! Be careful! Get on the pavement, please. Both feet.’
    The boys peered impishly from behind the back of the car. It was obvious something was up. How can I possibly take care of a puppy, as well as two kids and a job, wailed the voice in Zoe’s head.
    She looked at David. ‘I can’t deal with a puppy. Why do you always make me the one who has to say no?’ Her voice sounded strangled.
    ‘So don’t say no,’ said David, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Bye, boys! Are you going to come and give Dad a cuddle?’
    ‘Mum! Look!’ Leo thrust something into her arms and instinctively Zoe grabbed hold of the wriggling golden puppy. It was warm and soft, and heavy like a baby, with a seal-smooth coat and huge brown eyes that looked up at her with absolute trust. It made a whimpering noise and tried to lick her hand.
    Oh no, she thought, doing her best to harden her heart. No. You don’t get me like that.
    ‘His name’s Toffee,’ said Leo. ‘Isn’t he cute?’
    Spencer was saying his goodbyes to David, with hugs and hair rufflings, and Zoe’s sharp ears caught more promises than she wanted to hear. The promises were worse than the sugar overload, in terms of comedowns.
    She looked at Leo, who was gazing up at her expectantly from his still-too-big jacket. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s gorgeous. But, Leo, don’t you remember we had a talk about dogs, and how it wouldn’t be fair to . . .’
    ‘Come and say bye-bye to your dad!’ David was holding out his arms from the other side of the car and Leo rushed round, with a quick backwards glance of apology in her direction.
    It broke Zoe’s heart, watching the boys dole out scrupulously fair amounts of love to each parent on handover days.
    The puppy whimpered again, and Zoe realised she’d squeezed it without thinking. She wondered if she was holding it right. How old was it? She’d never had a dog before. What were you meant to do with them?
    The practical side of her brain, the side she’d never known was there till she had kids, was already making lists – did they bring a book? What about its stuff? Where was it going to sleep? –