Elisabeth stopped talking and yawned enormously.

“You’d probably describe them differently,” she said, and her tone was defensive. “You’re their mother.”

Alice was thinking about the first time she’d set eyes on Nick. She was wearing a striped apron, sitting on a high stool at a long counter, ready to learn Thai cooking. Her friend Sophie was meant to be there but she’d twisted her ankle and missed the first class. Nick came in late with a girl who Alice assumed was his girlfriend but later turned out to be the flakiest of his sisters, Ella. When they walked in, they were both laughing, and Alice, who was newly, sadly single, was immensely irritated. Typical. Here comes another happy, laughing, loving couple. Alice remembered how her eyes had met Nick’s as he looked about the class for free spots (while Ella gazed reverently and weirdly at the ceiling, entranced for some reason by the ceiling fan). Nick had raised his bushy eyebrows questioningly and Alice had smiled politely, thinking yes, yes, fine, come and sit here, lovebirds, and let’s make boring conversation.

There had been another free spot at the front of the class. If her eyes hadn’t met his, if she’d looked down at the fish cakes recipe in front of her, or if Sophie had walked two centimeters to the left and therefore missed twisting her ankle in that pothole, or if they had decided to do the wine tasting course instead, which they very nearly did, then those three children would never have been born. Madison Love. Thomas Love. Olivia Love. Three little individuals who already had their own personalities and quirks and stories.

The moment Nick raised his hairy eyebrows in her direction, they all got their stamps of approval. Yes, yes, yes, you will exist.

Alice was filled with elation. It was amazing. Of course, a billion babies were born every second or something, so it wasn’t that amazing, but still. Why weren’t they just overcome with joy every time they looked at those kids? Why in the world were they divorcing?

She said, “So, Nick and I are fighting over custody of the children?” Such a grown-up, alien concept.

“Nick wants them with him half the time. We don’t know how Nick thinks he can do it, when he works such long hours. You’ve always been their ‘primary caregiver,’ as they say. But it’s all got—well, it’s all turned so nasty. I guess it’s just the nature of divorce.”

“But does Nick think—” Alice was overwhelmed with hurt. “Does he think I’m not a good mother?” And was she a good mother?

Elisabeth lifted her chin and her eyes flashed like the old Elisabeth. “Well, if he thinks that, he’s wrong, and we’ll have a million witnesses ready to stand up in court and say otherwise. You’re a great mother. Don’t worry. He’s not going to win. He hasn’t got a chance. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove. It’s just a power game for him, I think.”

It was confusing because although it gave Alice pleasure to see Elisabeth angry on her behalf, at the same time she felt automatic loyalty for Nick. Elisabeth had always adored Nick. If Alice and Nick ever had an argument, Elisabeth took Nick’s side. He was a “catch,” she said.

Elisabeth was getting herself worked up. “I mean, it’s just so stupid. He doesn’t know the first thing about looking after them. He doesn’t cook. I doubt he’s ever used the washing machine. He’s always traveling, anyway. He’s just so—”

Alice held up her hand to make her stop. She said, “I expect it’s just that he can’t stand the idea of being a part-time dad like his own father. He used to hate it when Roger came to take him and his sisters out. He said Roger always tried too hard, you can just imagine, and it was awkward and strange, and the girls squabbled and took advantage of his credit card. Whenever we go out to a restaurant and Nick sees a man alone with his children, he always says, ‘Divorced dad,’ and shudders. I mean—that’s what he did. Ten years ago.”

She tried to get control of her voice. “He wanted to be there every night for his children, and hear about what they did at school, and make breakfast with them on the weekend. He talked about that a lot. It was like he was going to make up for his own childhood, and I loved it when he talked like that because it was making up for our childhood, too, and not having our dad around. He had such lovely, romantic ideas about how we’d be a family. Well, we both did. I can’t believe—I can’t believe—”

She couldn’t talk anymore. Elisabeth came over and sat on the couch beside her. She hugged her awkwardly. “Maybe,” she said tentatively. “Maybe this memory loss is sort of a good thing because it will help you see things more objectively without your mind being cluttered with everything that’s happened over the last ten years. And once you get your memory back, you’ll still have a different perspective and you and Nick will be able to work things out without all the fighting.”

“What if it never comes back?”

“Oh, of course it will come back. You’re already remembering bits and pieces,” said Elisabeth.

“Maybe my old self has been sent from the past to stop the divorce,” said Alice only half flippantly. “Maybe I won’t get my memory back until I’ve done that.”

“Possibly!” said Elisabeth too brightly. Then she paused and said, “Dominick seemed nice. Really nice.”

Alice thought of how she’d let Dominick kiss her on this very couch and felt suffused with guilt. She said, “He is perfectly nice. He’s just not Nick.”