Leah picks up the paintbrush she has been using, goes to the bathroom and runs the tap.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks, following her.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t seem fine.’

She squeezes paint from the bristles, watches the water swirl in the basin.

He runs a hand through his hair, then puts his hands into his jeans pockets, leans against the door frame. ‘Is it the pin or the fact that it was Jenna who gave it to you?’

Leah cannot say what is really bothering her. When she thinks about him having that conversation with Jenna, imagines the confidential tones he used to tell her about the failed pregnancy – about the mole – she feels a rage inside her so strong it makes her shake.

‘Have you seen Anton?’ she asks, keeping her tone neutral.

‘No. Why?’

‘I promised Mark I’d keep an eye on him.’

‘He’s a grown man, Leah. And you’ve enough to deal with.’

‘Could you call up there?’ she asks, catching his eye now and holding him with her stare.

‘You’re kidding.’

‘It would just be five minutes. Just call up and see if he’s all right.’

Jake shakes his head, an expression of distaste on his face. ‘I’m not going anywhere near that man.’ Then, softening his stance, he says: ‘Besides, it’s Mark’s problem. Let him take care of it.’

Thinking that’s the end of it, he comes towards her and puts his hand to her neck as if he’s going to kiss her. She turns away, anger pumping through her. It was such a small thing to ask of him. ‘I’m tired,’ she says.

He lingers a moment behind her, and when she looks up at the bathroom mirror and catches his reflection there, she sees the expression on his face, full of doubt.

‘Fair enough,’ he says, in a flat voice, before moving away.

She cannot sleep. At night, she lies in bed, tracing the map of shadows on the ceiling. The window is open, and she can hear the call of night birds, the distant sounds of an occasional car passing on the road. Somewhere nearby she hears a fox barking. There have always been foxes here, Anton had said.