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filthy white mid-life crisis Porsche and they ate dinner together around the kitchen table. Jem’s efforts to shame him, predictably enough, failed to have the desired effect.
    â€œWhere’s the harm in it?” Breezily unrepentant, Gavin helped himself to another mountain of buttery mashed potato. “I’m expanding my social life, making new friends, having fun. I’ve met some smashing girls.”
    Girls being the operative word. Ginny found it hard to believe sometimes that she and Gavin had ever been married. These days he was forever announcing that yet again he had met the most gorgeous creature and that this time she was definitely The One. Needless to say, Gavin was an enthusiastic chatter-upper of the opposite sex but not necessarily a sensible one. The girls invariably turned out to be in their twenties with short skirts, high heels, and white-blond hair extensions. These relationships weren’t what you’d call a meeting of minds. They usually only lasted a few weeks. When Gavin had come round over Christmas he had spent all his time extolling the virtues of his latest amour, Marina. And now, ten days later, here he was extolling the virtues of a singles club.
    â€œWhat happened to Marina?” Ginny dipped a chunk of bread into the bowl of garlic mayonnaise.
    â€œWho? Oh, right. Her ex-boyfriend got jealous and kicked up a bit of a fuss. They’re back together now.”
    â€œAnd you’re back to square one,” said Ginny. “Aren’t the women at this singles place a bit older than you’re used to?”
    â€œSo? Not a problem. Some of them have cracking daughters.” Gavin was unperturbed. “And don’t give me that look. You should try it yourself.”
    â€œWhat? Chatting up fifty-something women, then running off with their daughters?”
    â€œThe club. It’d do you the world of good. Jem’s back at uni next week,” Gavin went on. “You want to be getting out more. Come along with me, and I’ll introduce you to everyone. It’d be fun.”
    â€œAre you mad? I’m your ex-wife.” Ginny couldn’t believe he was serious. “It’s not normal, you know, to take your ex-wife along to your singles club. Even if I did want to go to one, which I don’t .”
    Gavin shrugged. “You’ve got to move with the times. And think of what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.”
    â€œDad, leave it. This is like when you keep trying to persuade me to eat olives just because you love them. Mum’s fine; she’s not desperate like you.”
    â€œI’m not desperate.” Gavin was outraged at this slur on his character.
    â€œNo, you’re just a bit of a tart.” Reaching over, Jem gave his hand a reassuring pat. “And that’s not a criticism; it’s the truth. But Mum isn’t like that. She’s happy as she is.” Turning to Ginny, she added, “You never get lonely, do you, Mum? You’re not the type.”
    â€œUm… well…” Caught off guard by what had clearly been a rhetorical question, Ginny wondered if this might perhaps be the moment to confess that sometimes, if she was honest, she did get a bit—
    â€œThank God ,” Jem continued with feeling. “And let me tell you, I seriously appreciate it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, you wouldn’t believe what some parents are like. There are some completely hopeless cases out there. Like Lizzie, one of the girls on my course, her mum and dad ring her up almost every day; they have no idea how embarrassing they are. Everyone bursts out laughing whenever her phone rings—it’s like her parents are living their whole lives through her. And Davy’s another one—crikey, he’s in an even worse situation. Poor Davy, his mother wouldn’t even let him leave home. He’s just, like, stuck there with her and everyone