‘Now! The bar is open,’ Charlotte said, returning with filled glasses. ‘You must tell me all about yourselves!’ She passed around the G-and-Ts.

There wasn’t much to tell, but dutifully they explained the essential details: how they were both teachers, how they’d used a small inheritance to buy the house across the road. Builders would begin work on Monday. Ten weeks, they’d been told.

‘And how long have you been married?’ Charlotte asked. She’d taken a seat on the sofa next to Greg, sat perched on the edge, like Hilary. She was not relaxed. Something over-attentive about her, eyes a little too wide and glittery.

‘Six years,’ Hilary said.

‘No kids?’

‘No,’ she answered, offering a tight smile. Without looking, she could feel Greg’s eyes on her, knew that she’d see concern there.

‘Plenty of time for that,’ Charlotte replied. Her own children were nowhere to be seen, although there were occasional thumps and shouts from upstairs. ‘But you have a little dog.’

‘That’s right. Bella,’ Hilary said, instantly brightening. She always did when it came to Bella. ‘She’s a cocker spaniel. A blue roan, to be precise.’

‘Lovely,’ Charlotte said, but she did not sound sincere. Hilary had the impression that she was not really interested, that her thoughts, in fact, lay elsewhere. And when the front door banged and her husband appeared, her manner seemed to change again.

‘There he is. The man of the house,’ Charlotte announced, in a way that felt falsely bright.

She disappeared once more to fix a drink for him, while Anton walked slowly into the room, loosening his tie. Dressed in a suit, he’d come straight from work, and it was obvious from his expression that he had not expected to find Hilary and Greg in his living room, and was probably not thrilled about it either, as he dutifully shook their hands, introducing himself.

‘Here we are!’ Charlotte proclaimed, in her new fake tone. There was a shrillness to it and Hilary caught Anton glancing at his wife – wariness in the swift, assessing gaze – as she put the glass into his hand, resuming her place on the sofa.

In one way, she was easy company, with a gift for moving the conversation along. Peppering them with questions, she never once allowed the talk to flag. Her responses to their offerings seemed effusive and generous, if not entirely heartfelt. The husband, on the other hand, Hilary noted, was watchful and laconic. He preferred to let his wife do the talking. Only once – when Charlotte returned to the kitchen to fix a second round of drinks – was Anton pressed into conversation, exchanging a few sports-related opinions with Greg while Hilary sat there, smiling, and taking in the room.

‘God, I can really feel that gin in my legs now,’ Greg remarked, laughing, when they were halfway through their second drinks.