‘Toby!’ Tara turned for one second to yell up the stairs and when she turned back, the front door was shutting, and Dad had gone. ‘Toby!’

Branston whimpered, and went to follow him, but Tara said, ‘Branny, please!’ and he sat back down again, confused.

Tara flattened her palm over her heart. She could feel it hammering and hammering. What was happening? Dad said to hang on, he’d be back in a minute, and that was absolutely normal, but somehow it wasn’t.

She looked down to see what it was he’d given her. It was a note she hadn’t seen before. A red one. Fifty pounds. Why had Dad given her fifty pounds?

This wasn’t right. She stared at the apple-bobbing apple, which had rolled over to the coat stand. It looked fine, but it would be bruised inside under the skin, spoiled brown and spongy when they cut into it later.

Feet thundered behind her, Toby clattering down the stairs.

‘Where’s Dad gone?’ He was wearing one of her old school shirts, now splattered with red ink and slashed like a jellyfish with the dressmaking shears.

‘Out.’ She showed him the note. ‘He gave me this.’

‘For you, or to share?’

‘To share,’ said Tara automatically, because she and Toby always had to share things. ‘I think,’ she added, more uncertainly.

‘Great. Why’s he going out with Ashley?’ he asked.

‘What?’

Toby’s gaze flicked towards the door. ‘Ashley was outside. In her Corsa. Dad got in and they just drove off.’

Ashley was their babysitter, their cleaner Jen’s daughter. She was at Reading University and she had long blonde hair, and let them stay up very late on the nights when Mum and Dad went to ‘functions’ – usually parties, sometimes awards. Dad got invited to a lot of parties because his business was doing well. He often had to travel as far away as London, which Tara thought should have made Mum happy but it didn’t.

Tara was about to say, That doesn’t make sense, but Toby’s dark expression said it for her. She could almost hear his mind working, putting the pieces in order.

She pressed her lips together. She had a sickly feeling that speaking now would confirm that something was wrong and Tara didn’t want that.

Branston groaned, and flopped down with his head on her foot.

Outside, it started to rain. Hard.

CHAPTER ONE

‘So tell me what happened. Start wherever you like, doesn’t have to be the beginning,’ said Tara, and when Grace Jordan didn’t reply immediately, she pushed the box of tissues across the table and waited.