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‘He’d just deny it. Anyone would.’

‘It might scare him off.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Let’s think about it.’

‘OK,’ Ryan said. ‘But we need to find a way to sort this out. At the moment – if this is real – we’re sitting ducks.’

A Teachable Moment

Mary made a shopping list. It felt good, and normal, as though life was progressing as it should have been. The rest of the day was going to be taken up with a field hockey tournament that Sally’s travel team was playing in, so Mary needed to get groceries that morning if they were going to eat in the week, or at least avoid spending a small fortune on take-out.

She tried to think through what they would need: enough big-ticket items for five meals, some of which would produce leftovers for her to take to work and Ryan to have for lunch, plus snacks, breakfast stuff, vegetables, fruit, bread, milk. Shopping for a family was a major exercise in planning.

She put the pen down. She could hear shouting coming from the kitchen. She had been aware of it in the background for a while – one of the key skills you developed as a parent was the ability to block out noise – but this was reaching a higher pitch, and she could no longer concentrate.

Her anxiety spiked. She was tired, and stressed, and she needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to think about the day. She folded the shopping list and walked towards the kitchen.

‘Give it to me.’ Otis was standing with his hand on the fridge door, holding it shut, his other hand pointing at the two pieces of toast Sally had in her hands. His voice rose to a shout. ‘Give me my toast!’

‘It’s my toast!’ Sally said.

‘It is not! I put it in the toaster. I don’t know why you have to do this. You know it’s mine. Just give it to me.’

Sally shook her head. ‘You’re such a liar.’ She looked up and saw Mary standing by the door. ‘Mom. Tell him.’

‘Tell him what?’ Mary said.

‘To let me get the butter from the fridge.’

‘Let her get the butter from the fridge,’ Mary said.

Otis’s face contorted into an expression of utter disbelief. ‘No way.’ He shook his head violently from side to side. ‘There is no way I am letting her’ – he spat the word out – ‘get rewarded for doing this.’

‘Doing what?’ Mary said.

‘Stealing my toast!’

He said it as though the crime in question was one that would inspire future Netflix documentaries about the world’s most evil malefactors.

‘Mom!’ Sally said. ‘Tell him.’

Mary paused, took a deep breath, and held it. She made a decision not to shout at her kids about this. It would not help anybody. Instead, she would treat it as a teachable moment.

‘What I will tell you both,’ she began, ‘is that this is not worth arguing about. Otis – even if it is your toast, let her have it, and put some more in. Who cares? You wait a few more minutes for toast but you have something much more valuable: the moral high ground. Sally – if your brother really is trying to steal toast you have invested literally seconds of your life in preparing, so be it. But it is not worth arguing about.’

‘Mom, she stole my toast!’ Otis’s face was reddening. ‘You’re going to let her get away with that?’

‘Otis, all I’m asking is—’

‘Really? You’re going to reward her? Maybe that’s why she’s the way she is.’

‘What does that mean?’ Sally said. ‘What way am I?’

‘You know,’ Otis said. ‘Everybody knows.’

‘Yeah? Well what way is it?’

‘I’m not saying,’ Otis said. ‘Not in front of Mom.’