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‘Mmmm. And what did she say?’ I ask.

‘She’s still in love with him.’

‘She said that?’

‘Not directly. It was the subtext.’

‘What did she say, exactly?’

‘That she’s okay, still processing, blah, blah, something about the cat.’

‘Rex. He’s living at my house now.’

‘He is?’

‘Xavier went and got him.’

‘For god’s sake, he’s so attached to that animal. It’s her cat.’ Hillary is completely unaware of the irony of saying this while standing next to a framed black-and-white professional portrait of Aggie sitting on her desk.

‘Well, Rex is staying with Xavier and me for a few weeks.’

‘He’s redirecting his feelings for Lana onto the cat.’

‘I think he just likes the cat.’

‘We’re a dog family. That thing scratched Aggie once. Almost in the eye. I don’t trust it. He’s only brought it here to antagonise me.’

She’s moved cleanly across the border from rational to irrational, and I have learned from experience I can’t drag her back.

‘Maybe he needs a male influence. Maybe I need to get Graham involved,’ Hillary says.

This makes me startle. She has never said anything like this before. Not when she thought Ettie’s marriage was in trouble, not when she thought James was dangerously overworked. And, she said his first name. Normally she only refers to him as her ex-husband or ‘the children’s father’. It must be serious.

‘What would Graham do?’

‘Oh, he’d screw things up probably, like he always does, but I’m running out of options. That’s my going-nuclear final move.’

‘Well, don’t pull it out just yet. Trust me. Trust Jane Austen. I’ll get him writing.’

Hillary looks at me, and lets out a breath.

‘Okay. I trust you. Xavier is in your capable hands.’

Hillary’s words echo in my head all day, and that night, our official second night without phones, I decide to set a different tone. No going out, no drinking, no games, no laughter. I shut the phones in the cage and, after dinner, I pull out a second copy of Northanger Abbey. My good one, from my good collection, which I wouldn’t lend to Xavier.

‘I’m going to do a reread of them all with you,’ I say. ‘Let’s have a silent-reading hour.’

He bites his lip like he is physically trying to stop himself saying something.

‘A silent-reading hour,’ he eventually says. ‘Sure, why not. Rex will love it.’

Rex lifts his head at the sound of his name. He’s been asleep on the chair with his favourite mouse toy in his mouth, a habit I find quite disturbing. Xavier lifts him up, sits down on the chair, and puts Rex in his lap.

‘Does the silence start now?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask a question first?’