‘I don’t really understand. We could avoid all that if I moved in. I could sell my place and buy a townhouse. Two floors for living, one floor each for messing up our private lives. Maisie would love that. I could keep her company when you go on dates. You can criticize my pancakes. And anyway, I hate my flat.’

‘Your flat is great. People would die for that flat.’

‘I’ve grown out of it. Exposed brick just looks like someone couldn’t be arsed to plaster, and however high the central heating goes, it’s still too cold.’

‘You need to brighten it up a bit, is all. You need a few plants.’

‘Or some human beings.’

‘It would be really confusing for her.’

‘Why?’

Becky cannot believe he is being so bold. He is suggesting something practical, as if that would be the sum total of it, and yet, what he’s talking about … If it went wrong, it would shatter them all.

‘Maisie needs stability,’ she says.

‘Maisie needs Nike volt trainers.’

‘Seriously, two people bringing home dates?’

‘You never have dates,’ he says.

‘That’s a whole other issue.’

‘It’d be simpler. She already grew up with us like this.’

‘Yes, but living apart.’

‘We already spend so much time together.’

‘Nobody’s taking that away from her. I just think we shouldn’t … get her hopes up.’

‘Hopes?’

‘Adam. Come on.’

‘What?’

Becky turns away and begins to clear crumbs and stack plates.

‘So are you going to talk to me about last night?’ he says. ‘You sounded terrible.’

‘Same old shit. It’s worse when I get tired.’

‘Well …’

‘That’s all. I’m a bit shattered. That’s all it is.’

She can’t look at him. He knows her better than anyone else and for a moment she thinks about telling him everything that is inside her head, all the clashes and conflict and suspicions. But what exactly would she be saying? That she thinks something might be wrong? Something has always been wrong. She always thinks that. Where is the news?

‘I wish you’d let me help more,’ says Adam. ‘You’re getting really tired. You work too hard.’

‘I like working hard. And you’ve helped enough,’ she says. ‘I don’t want you to have to keep on popping up to pay the bills. She’s nearly sixteen, Adam. You should be, I don’t know … your job is done. Your monumental task! You know I’ll never be able to thank you.’

He looks so sad. ‘It’s hardly a job, Beck. It was never a job. I love you guys.’

‘I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.’

She gets up from her chair and throws her arms around his neck.