The mask slipped for one second, and one second was all I needed.

I stopped several feet from her.

I let go of Hannah’s hand, gently, so that my sister Patricia could come and stand close to her, a hand on her shoulder, because whatever was about to happen, I did not want my daughter to have to stand alone in the middle of it.

That instinct, to put Patricia’s hand on Hannah’s shoulder before I turned to face Brenda, was one of the few things I did on pure reflex that afternoon that I am glad of without reservation.

Whatever was about to be said, however ugly it became, my daughter was not going to experience it as a lone child caught between two furious adults.