Frank didn’t answer, but Evan’s words stayed in his mind for the rest of that day. The near-miss he’d had with Irena on the night of the storm had stirred something inside him that he’d thought was long dead, and, as hard as he’d tried to fight it, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and kind, and he’d enjoyed the few quiet evenings they had spent together before Evan had come to stay. So was his son right? he wondered. Was he jealous?

Confused by these unfamiliar feelings, and disgusted with himself for viewing his son as a rival, Frank headed up to bed earlier than usual that night – even though it meant leaving Evan and Irena alone for the first time in days.

Since that first night he’d been forcing himself to stay up until they went to bed, and, more often than not, it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning. Determined to catch up on the sleep he’d been missing, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. But sleep wouldn’t come, and after tossing and turning for the best part of an hour, he flopped onto his back and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He could hear the TV down in the living room, but that was all he could hear – and that was unusual, because Evan had an annoying tendency to give a running commentary on whatever they were watching.

Unable to ignore what his instincts were telling him, Frank got up and pulled his dressing gown on before making his way downstairs. If Evan and Irena wanted to be together, so be it. But not like this. Whether Evan liked it or not, he was a married man, and he needed to do the decent thing and break it off with Marie before he started a relationship with Irena.

He’d reached the hallway and was about to knock on the living room door to announce his presence, when he heard a little squeal, followed by Irena screaming: ‘FRANKIIIEEEE . . . Help me!’

Her voice became muffled, but Frank had heard enough, and he burst into the room to see what was going on. His blood ran cold when he saw Evan on top of Irena on the sofa, his hand covering her mouth.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ he bellowed.

‘It isn’t what it looks like,’ Evan yelped, jumping up. ‘She came on to me, then flipped out when I kissed her.’

Irena had shuffled into the corner of the sofa, tears streaming down her cheeks. The terror in her eyes when Frank glanced at her told him everything he needed to know.

‘Go to your room,’ he ordered Evan.