“I sat in Friday traffic for forty minutes to bring you designer presents for your twelfth birthday, Lily,” Vanessa said.

“The least you can do is watch your tone when you talk to me.”

“Nobody invited you here tonight,” Mark said from his place at the end of the table.

Vanessa swung her gaze to Mark, her long red nails drumming a fast beat on the oak.

“I’m still your mother, Mark, whether you like looking at me or not,” she said.

“You were gone three thousand six hundred and fifty days,” Lily said, her voice perfectly level.