Then Barnaby — who we had brought because Lia insisted and who was fourteen and slow — heaved himself up and went over and put his entire head in Paige’s lap.

And Paige Vance, who has been eleven for five months, burst into tears.

Not politely. Properly, with both hands over her face, in a public park, for about two minutes, while Brenda started forward and I put a hand on her arm and my fifteen-year-old daughter sat completely still at the other end of the bench and did not move and did not speak and let her do it.

When she stopped, Paige said — I could hear it from where I stood — “Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

And Lia said, “I do.”

That was it. That was the whole exchange. After that they walked the dog round the pond for an hour and fifty minutes and talked, as far as I could tell, entirely about school.