The phone rang just as we were sitting down to dinner. Joe was in his high chair, trying his best to squirm out of the shoulder straps, twisting his body and whining.
“Yes, hello?” said Sarah.
“Cut it out,” I said to Joe. “Sit still, okay?” Joe was still teething. He’d been waking up every few hours during the night. And of course we had the new baby as well. Emma was only five weeks old. If it wasn’t Joe waking us up it was her.
“Yes. That’s right,” Sarah said, anxiously watching Joe as he squirmed. There were dark smudges under her eyes. “Tim Doyle’s my husband.” She passed the phone across. “Here. It’s for you.”
“Who is it?” I mouthed.
“Some old friend of
