Eventually Jenny spoke. ‘Anyway, like I said, we don’t know anything about Dad for sure.’

‘We will,’ Dorothy said.

Hannah frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

Dorothy looked from one to the other of them. ‘I gave Thomas DNA samples to compare.’

Jenny sat up. ‘Samples from who?’

‘Your dad and the Lawrence girl.’

Hannah sucked her teeth. ‘How did you get a DNA sample from a girl you’ve only met once?’

Dorothy finished her drink. ‘I went back and got it.’

‘How?’ Jenny said.

Dorothy turned, her gaze steely this time. ‘I just did.’

Jenny drank. ‘Christ.’

Silence for a moment broken by Schrödinger purring as he came in the room. He approached Dorothy then went to play with the bottom of the curtains.

Hannah spoke to Jenny. ‘Speaking of lovely men, how’s your adultery case?’

Jenny stared at her drink then smiled. ‘He’s an artist.’

‘What?’

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to the camera roll. She got up and handed it to Hannah, who flicked through them.141

‘He goes to a studio after work,’ Jenny said. ‘And paints these.’

‘How did you get into his studio?’ Dorothy said.

Jenny pictured kicking the door in and felt a twinge of shame, heat rushing to her face. Was this who she was now? Angry and violent, barrelling her way through life.

‘A sculptor let me in to look around. I said I was interested in renting a space.’

‘They’re cool,’ Hannah said, tapping Jenny’s phone screen.

‘I know.’

Hannah passed the phone to Dorothy. ‘And that’s it?’

‘So far. He goes for a drink afterwards at the shore in Leith. Chats to the barmaid, but not chatting her up as far as I can tell.’

‘And his wife doesn’t know?’ Dorothy said.

‘This is his dirty little secret, apparently.’

‘Why would he not tell his wife?’ Dorothy said.

Jenny took the phone back and looked through the paintings. A tree made of spinal vertebrae, fingers for fronds, merging into alien floral structures.

‘Maybe he’s shy,’ she said. ‘Or scared of ridicule.’

‘Are you going to tell her?’ Dorothy said.

‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Jenny said. ‘I want to stay on him a bit more, see if there’s anything else.’

It was only as she said it that she realised it was true. There was something about Liam that interested her, apart from the paintings. She thought about all the men in Mel’s life, her own ex-husband cheating on her. Liam was just another guy, of course. But maybe he wasn’t. If you think every guy is the same, doesn’t that condemn them to being so in your eyes? She was going round in circles. And if you dug deep enough couldn’t you find some dirt, something you didn’t like about anyone, including yourself?