Around midday, my phone rang. It was my mother. Her voice was a mix of confusion and indignation. “David, I just got a call from the bank. What’s going on?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Mom, I’m cutting off the monthly transfers and selling the Elm Street house. After last night, it’s clear that you’ve all taken advantage of my support for too long.”

Her reaction was predictably defensive. “Are you punishing us because of Sarah? We were just trying to keep the atmosphere pleasant for Jessica.”