My thanks to Dr Sally Cline, who was there at the beginning, who I met on a flight to Colorado, a ticket bought to get away from the book I thought I couldn’t write, that landed me in the seat beside her, and nine hours later, a place on her mentoring scheme for emerging writers. You taught me so much, Sal, not least, how to murder my darlings. Tor Udall, who got me and my work out of the house – I’d still be whining at the kitchen table if it wasn’t for you. Andrew Wille, editor extraordinaire, who took a novella, saw it was a novel, and kept saying it until I listened. The early readers and champions of this book: Sara Nunan, Dr Harriet Mahood, Victoria Ogilvy, Andrew Cooke, Jacqueline Gerrard and Ysenda Maxtone Graham. Thank you for your endless encouragement when all I had was doubt. My gratitude to Clare Griffin, who keeps my head straight. A million thanks to my wonderful agent, Jenny Savill, who continues to hold my hand, and is patient, and whose belief in this novel changed my life. Jen and Chris ­Hamilton-Emery at Salt – the work you do keeps us literary fiction writers alive, not just in print but in conviction. I can’t thank you enough for choosing to publish this book. My publicists, Emma Dowson and Sophie Ransom – I’d be lost without you. My friends and family, particularly Jacobi and Blake (pity the children of writers . . .) for putting up with my absences, my terrible moods, and obsessive, determined nature. And lastly, although he really should come first, my thanks to my father, for giving me this story in the first place, and his blessing to write it.