Instantly, he prioritised protecting Josie, whether or not that meant making decisions that weren’t his to make. ‘It’s OK, Josie,’ he said reassuringly, popping her overnight bag just inside the door. ‘Maria’s probably crying because she can hear your voice and wants to see you. How about you go and play with her while I talk to Mum?’

Josie gazed at him for several moments but Maria was still crying long, exhausted, heartrending wails, the hopeless kind of sobbing that had been going for a long time unanswered. ‘All right,’ she said. But she didn’t move.

‘It’s OK,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll be here.’

Finally, she headed down the hallway.

Touching Loren’s elbow, he ushered her into the lounge and pushed the door to, taking in her pasty skin and crumpled clothes. On the table stood an empty red wine bottle and a glass, also empty. A drying patch on the sofa could only be the vomit he’d detected earlier. His stomach churned.

‘Are you drunk?’ he asked neutrally, staring into her dilated pupils.

‘No!’ Loren said too loudly. She lowered her voice. ‘I was … winding down. I had a headache. I’m not sleeping well.’ Then she put her hand over her eyes in the familiar gesture. ‘OK. I might be tipsy. It’s hard being a single parent.’

Nico bit both lips to prevent himself from snapping, ‘You don’t have to tell me!’ Instead, he said, ‘I’m sorry you’re finding it difficult. Go and shower. You’ll feel brighter and then we can talk.’

After a moment when it seemed she might refuse, Loren nodded shakily and headed into the square hall from which other doors led. He headed off to find Josie, following the exhausted hurrrrr, hurrrr of a child who’s been crying so long she doesn’t know how to stop.

Softly entering the bedroom he knew Josie used on visits, he found his daughter kneeling on the floor, her little half-sister clinging to her like a bear cub halfway up a tree. The room smelled.

Josie looked up, witch hat sitting drunkenly on her head. Tears tracked through her green face paint. ‘Maria’s weed herself,’ she said in outrage. ‘She never wees herself, even though she’s little. And she’s not in her pyjamas so she can’t have been put to bed.’ Her candid blue eyes gazed at him and Nico could see she was drawing the same conclusions he was.

Loren had lied.

Maria had been left in her room unsupervised for so long she’d been unable to hold on for the toilet.

The two-year-old gazed at him through swollen eyes but remained trembling in her big sister’s embrace.