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‘Stay, then,’ Ryan said. ‘But I bet you still want the croissant, right?’

‘You can get me one if you want.’

‘If I want? If you want. Why would I want to buy you a delicious artisan croissant if you don’t even want it? You think I have a crazy fetish for buying croissants?’

‘OK. Get me one.’

Ryan nodded. ‘I will. Or you could come and get your own? After all, if I leave you in the car for thirty minutes how can I be sure you won’t call Dylan and tell him you’re all of a sudden free?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Love is a powerful thing.’

Incredibly, Sally grinned. ‘Shut up, Ryan!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, I’ll come in.’

The sullen tone in her voice had gone. Mary marvelled at it: she could have spent the rest of the weekend trying to get Sally to leave the car and join them at the farmers’ market and her daughter would not have budged an inch. She would only have become more and more determined not to give in. Ryan, though, somehow knew how to make her laugh, and that was the key.

Even when Sally was a toddler Mary had often become locked in a battle of wills with her about an item of clothing or whether she would eat something or leave the house, or whatever it was, a battle she would rarely win. Potty training had been a nightmare: the more Mary tried to persuade – bribe – her to use the potty, the more adamantly she refused. If only Ryan had arrived on the scene earlier, maybe her relationship with her daughter would have been a little less strained. Which, whatever else happened, was what she wanted more than anything else.

It was approaching lunchtime and the farmers’ market was winding down. A few stalls were already empty, but Mary picked up some sourdough bread, wild garlic, and a large bag of parsnips. She had made a spicy parsnip soup a couple of weeks ago and Otis had looked up from his bowl, spoon halfway to his mouth, and said This is fire. Will you make this again? Her heart had soared, and she had felt like a teenage girl who had been asked to dance by the person she had a huge crush on.

Make it again? She’d make it every night, if he wanted.

It was pathetic to be so gratified by her son’s approval, but with relations with Sally at an all-time low, she was grateful for whatever ways to connect with her kids she could find, and as a result she was carrying two pounds of organic parsnips.

She walked over to a stand to get a coffee. The sleepless night was beginning to make itself felt. Otis was talking to a schoolfriend – well, standing near one as they looked at their phones – and Sally and Ryan were buying some chickpea salad from an Afghan woman who had taken a shine to Sally when she was about eight, and now insisted that she try any new recipes.

The coffee – no milk, dark roast – was hot and delicious and the restorative effect of the caffeine was almost immediate. Mary took a second swig and felt a sense of calm slowly come over her. It was interrupted by a voice behind her.

‘That’ll make a healthy meal.’

She turned around. It was Trent, a tote bag filled with vegetables dangling from his wrist. His wife and daughter were – again – nowhere to be seen. He was smiling, although faint dark circles around his eyes hinted at the early start to his day.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘About earlier?’ He made it sound like a question.

‘It’s fine.’

He gestured at her bag. ‘You look like you’re making a healthy meal.’

‘Parsnip soup,’ she said. There was something unnerving about how composed he was, how still, how steady the gaze in his eyes. ‘Otis loves it.’

‘You’re going to make parsnip soup?’

Why was he asking about her lunch plans? And why was she answering?

‘That’s why I have the parsnips. Anything else? Want to know my dinner plans? We’re having pasta.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his composure cracking a little. ‘But about this morning. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten you.’

‘You already said that. It’s fine. You have every right to be out at any time of the day you like.’

‘I know. But still. I feel bad about alarming you.’

She felt a pulse of anger at his refusal to drop the subject. Who did he think he was, disturbing the small moment of peace she had finally wrangled out of the day? Well, fine. If he wanted to talk, they could talk.

‘Did you find your dog?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘I did. All’s well.’

‘Where was she? On the field? In the woods?’

‘Neither. She’d found her way home on her own.’