Alex pulls a face. 'Not as such. I mean, he talked a good game, but he was more of an artist. He was working on his novel, and liked to wear black turtlenecks and swoon about in coffee shops. He called me his "muse".' There's a sarcastic edge to her voice that's impossible to miss.

'I was young and stupid, and ate it all up with a spoon. And I paid for it later. Well, and Molly paid too, which was wholly unfair, but -- there you are.'

She sounds like she'd still love to take his eyes out with a rusty spoon, save that he's her daughter's father, and Molly adores him.