That night, Zoe and Ravi broke into Harcourt House. She had been visiting every now and then, even though it was locked and off-limits. She knew the secret ways in – the window of the downstairs bathroom, for example, the catch of which came loose with a bit of rattling. Once inside, she would run to the alarm by the back door, and press in her date of birth – which was the code Eva had set – before the police were called out. It was worth it, for even weeks later, the house still smelt of Eva: in the kitchen; on the landing outside her bedroom; in the bathroom; in the bedroom itself. Most of Eva’s things were there still. Which meant that part of Eva was there, too. So Zoe went to breathe in what was left of her. She would sit in the library, ostensibly leafing through a book, but in reality waiting for the tiniest thing – a gust of air wafting Eva’s scent, the way the light fell through a doorway, the worn middle of the stair carpet up to the attic, the creak of the hall door – to trigger the grief she came for. She walked round the house, seeking it out, and when it hit, she’d curl up where she was. The howls, the gasping for air; all this drama telling you, merely, in the end, that you were the alive one. Grief doing for you nothing more noble or glorious than that.

She didn’t want to sleep in any of the bedrooms, so they made a bed for themselves at the top of the stairs outside her grandmother’s bedroom, using blankets from the attic that had been Mariam’s. With his arms wrapped around her, she slept. Again she travelled back, beyond Eva, beyond Eva’s ancestors, beyond anybody who bore Eva’s name, or Ruth’s, to the time when Cwen reigned resplendent on her island. She saw Cwen in the distance, waiting for her. Zoe stepped on to the sand, and Cwen came down to meet her. In one hand she carried an apple and in the other a smooth grey wave-worn stone. The stone was carved with a V. Cwen put the apple to Zoe’s lips. Cwen smiled.

When Zoe opened her eyes again, the house was flooded with sunlight. Ravi was still asleep. The landing was echoing with a noise that seemed familiar. Zoe looked around in surprise.

There it was. Eva’s house phone on the table in the landing. Zoe got to her feet. With exaggerated care she picked up the receiver.

‘Zoe?’ said a voice. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for weeks.’

‘Hello?’ said Zoe.