Karen hears the thud of Sigrid’s bag landing on the hallway floor upstairs. With her head in the chest freezer, she concludes that the stores that just a few months ago seemed inexhaustible are quickly being depleted. The cold feels good on her swollen eyes and she lingers for a minute before picking up a shepherd’s pie, turning off the bare bulb overhead and climbing back up the basement stairs.

‘Hi,’ she says, making sure her long fringe hides her face. ‘Did something happen?’

Without waiting for a response, she continues into the kitchen and turns the oven to 150 degrees.

‘Do you have any idea how long I was stuck in traffic?’ Sigrid says, having followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table with a glass of water.

‘I’m assuming around forty minutes,’ Karen replies and opens the oven door. ‘I just got home myself.’

‘Why do you always use aluminium trays you can’t put in the microwave? That’s going to take forever. I’m starving.’

‘Have a sandwich. I didn’t have time to stop by the shops.’

‘Is Leo home?’

‘I don’t think so. See if the lights are on in the annex.’

Sigrid stands up and walks over to the kitchen window.

‘They are,’ she says. ‘What’s with you guys these days anyway? I thought you were, like . . . well, you know . . . like, a thing.’

Karen shuts her eyes. Sooner or later, she’s going to have to tell her. So she turns around and sees Sigrid stiffen at the sight of her swollen eyes.

‘What the fuck . . . ? What happened?’

‘Nothing. Nothing bad.’

‘But you’ve been crying. Don’t you think I can tell?’

Her eyes are wide with worry and Karen can see the tension around her chin and lower lip as the words pour out of her.

‘What’s wrong? Is it Leo? Are you sick? Just fucking tell me!’

Her voice breaks and the last part comes out as something halfway between a sob and a scream.

Karen reaches her in two strides. Wraps her arms around her and holds her tight.

‘No, no, it’s nothing like that. Leo’s fine and so am I. It’s just that I—’

She breaks off and Sigrid twists out of her embrace. Takes a step back. Worry has morphed into something else.

‘You want me to move out,’ she says.

Karen blinks. Completely thrown off. Then she takes a deep breath.

‘No, it’s just that I’m . . . I’m pregnant.’

The transformation is instantaneous; something hard and hostile settles like a thin film over Sigrid’s face. Her eyes are still vulnerable and open, but one corner of her mouth curls into an attempt at a cynical sneer.

‘Right. So you do want me out.’ she says. ‘Just like that. I knew it.’

Karen stares at her open-mouthed. Surprise she might have expected, even faint disapproval, but not this.