‘Hey, Toby, just me calling for a chat – I saw your restaurant post on Instagram. Looks amazing! Guess you’re too busy editing to pick up.’ Tara poured hot coffee into her travel mug. Anji at work was spearheading a ‘Ditch the Drive!’ campaign for June, so Tara had to park two streets away and pretend she’d brought coffee for the bus. She tucked the phone under her ear, and put the bowl of cat food down on the floor for Sybil.

There was no sign of the cat. Typical. Sybil had only been living with Tara for a matter of weeks, but she’d realized early on that she was a cat who liked to make an entrance.

‘Hope all’s good with you,’ she went on. ‘Still a bit damp here in Longhampton, but we’re getting back to normal. Listen, I’m calling because you and I need to talk about … hang on.’

Tara put the phone against her chest and shouted, ‘Sybil? Breakfast!’ towards the stairs. There was a worming tablet concealed in the pâté that she wanted to make sure was eaten before she left for work.

‘Sybil’s not my flatmate, by the way, she’s my boyfriend’s cat,’ she explained, as if Toby had asked. Tara liked referring to Phil as her boyfriend; she’d noticed he started fidgeting if she used it in his earshot, which was not a good sign. But asking her to look after his cat was definitely a step towards something more official than ‘man I see three/four times a month for fun times’. ‘I’m pet-sitting! Not sure how long for. Anyway …’

Tara turned back to the open kitchen and allowed herself a moment to admire the clear morning sunlight streaming on to the slate floor. The brass taps, the deep Belfast sink, the reclaimed French cupboards: it was perfect. She reminded herself that she probably shouldn’t get used to living in such a magazine dream of a house. Which was the whole point of the call to Toby.

‘So, yes, we need to talk about the house. The estate agent’s chasing me about putting it on the market. The thing is, Mum …’ Tara stopped just short, right on the edge of the cliff, unable to speak the awful words. If she could guess Toby’s reaction to Ruth’s bombshell then it’d be easier, but she no longer knew what was in her brother’s head. That in itself felt like an open wound.

I need to see his face, she thought. I need to see what he’s thinking.