The Turning Point: A gripping emotional page-turner with a breathtaking twist

Or she could take herself to task and do something about it all. She could pick up Sam’s sock and kick-start her day. She could wash the floor and make the beds, she could phone her editor with her diary to hand. Then she could sit at the kitchen table and attempt to draw Alice back into existence.

With the children bickering over TV channels, moaning at her not pasta again Mum, the concept of a couple of nights in a swish hotel at her publishers’ invitation was just then very attractive even if she’d have to lie about progress on her current book. However, Peta said she wasn’t free to come and housesit because she was hosting her book club.

‘But if you’re organizing it, can’t you rearrange?’

‘Can’t you phone Mum?’

‘Can’t you just change the date? It’s important, it’s my career.’

‘Listen Frankie – I know you think I have all this spare time because I don’t work, but every day I have to ferry my teenage boys in a car which stinks of rugby boots or rattles with cricket bats. My husband is never home before nine and all I ask is that once a month I can get lost in a book with a bunch of people even more frazzled than I. It’s good for me – it restores me.’

The sisters paused in self-righteous stalemate.

‘Isn’t there anyone local you can ask?’

‘No.’

‘I keep telling you – you need to get out more. You’re becoming too introverted – and don’t call it self-sufficient.’

‘I’m not.’

‘How about a teaching assistant from Annabel’s school? What about your new friend Mrs Alexandra Technician?’

‘Ruth has two young children of her own.’

‘Ask Mum.’

‘Come on, Peta.’

‘What about Steph?’

Quietly, Frankie considered how Steph hadn’t crossed her mind for weeks. ‘I thought she was working in a ski resort?’

‘It’s May, Frankie. The snow has gone.’

Frankie thought about her half-sister as she looked at the caller-id photo in her phone’s contacts. Neither she nor Peta had taken much notice of Steph when she bounced into their lives; they’d been too busy pursuing their twenties, then raising their own families in their thirties. Frankie’s children adored Steph, especially Annabel who thought Frankie hopelessly uncool. Just this morning she’d said, what’s going on with your hair, Mummy?

‘Steph?’

‘Frankie?’

‘How are you?’

‘Oh my God! I’m good! And you? How’s Suffolk?’

‘Norfolk.’

‘That’s funny.’

Is it? Would Annabel laugh too?

‘And the ski season was –’

‘Oh just the best.’

‘Are you working now?’

‘No I’m in my flat.’

‘I don’t mean right now – I mean, at the moment.’

‘Yes – I’m a barista.’

‘What is that?’

‘I specialize in coffee.’

‘You work in Starbucks?’

‘God no – an independent coffee emporium. I know everything about coffee.’

‘Wow.’

Steph laughed. ‘Actually, I work in a local café.’

It was Frankie’s go. ‘You’re funny,’ she said warmly and she meant it. She thought, my half-sista the barista.

‘How are Sammy and Annabel?’

‘They’re fine – they’d love to see you, though Sam insists on being Sam these days. Actually, I was just wondering if I could tempt you to visit next week? They’d love it and it would help me. I have to come to London to see my editor. I was wondering if you might come and stay? I could pay, so that you don’t go short, being away from work?’

There was a pause. ‘I’m family. You wouldn’t need to pay me.’ Steph sounded appalled. ‘Normally I’d say yes – but I’m going away next week. With my new boyfriend.’

What Frankie really wanted to do was hang up and wonder what to do next.

‘He’s called Craig?’ Steph seemed to be waiting for a response.

‘Is he a keeper?’ Frankie said.

‘Are you on Facebook?’

‘No.’

‘Twitter? Instagram?’

‘God no.’

‘I’ve posted loads of pics of Châtel and Craig and my life. Everything.’