‘I’m well, thank you,’ she replied automatically. ‘Look, I just wanted to speak to you quickly about this community project.’

‘Ah, yes. How did the meeting go? I gather it was last night?’

‘Yes, it was.’ Tara tried not to think of Diane’s contemptuous expression. Or of the treehouse. It was hard, with her dad’s voice in her ear, sounding just like Dad. ‘Everyone’s really excited. Alice is contacting you today to discuss next steps.’

‘I’m so pleased to hear that!’ He did sound pleased. ‘You know, I’ve always believed, as an architect, that buildings are much more than physical constructions – they’re where people live their lives, where communities develop. At times like these, it feels right to use what building skills we have to repair those spaces, so people can get on with repairing their lives. It’s the small community projects that give me the most satisfaction, to be honest.’

Tara turned away from the window, and her mother’s rose bushes. That sounded great, but Keith had, after all, walked out on his own small community project, leaving a wife, two children and a very sad dog inside it.

‘So, with any luck we can get going soon,’ he went on, and Tara felt the nerves in her body surge with stress, tingling at her extremities.

‘How soon?’

‘Well, I’ve got nothing much on over the next few months, so I’ll shoot for a meeting for the end of next week.’

The end of next week? Suddenly it felt very real. Diane’s words came back to her: make him keep his distance, don’t let him push his way in.

‘Dad.’ Tara’s heart was racing, but she tried to keep her voice steady. ‘If you do this, please promise me one thing.’

‘If I can.’

Outside, by the bird table, Sybil was stalking an oblivious pigeon. Tara turned away. ‘Promise you won’t let them down.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘This hall means a lot to these people. Please see it through.’

‘Well, if you check the website, I managed to stick it out to the end of Wales’s newest multimedia art space,’ he said evenly. ‘It’s a village hall, Tara. It’s not the Sagrada Familia.’

‘I mean, if something else comes up, something more important …’ Tara heard herself backtracking, to her own private horror. ‘Please don’t leave us hanging now everyone’s so excited.’

‘I won’t, Tara. I promise.’