‘Do I have to?’

‘Yes, you do, you’re soaking wet. You’ll catch a cold. Go on, get upstairs.’ She trudges into the kitchen and unlocks the back door. The rain is now a curtain of steel. Poppy doesn’t budge.

‘Don’t blame you, mate, but you’ll have to cross your legs.’ She shivers and slams the door.

Dragging a large pan out of the cupboard, she fills it with cold water. Pasta again. A different sauce. Jamie won’t mind. Or rather he won’t notice. There’s some leftover bacon she could chop up and chuck in. She’s never enjoyed cooking. After her mum deserted them for another man, they lived on takeaways and eating out in restaurants, mainly the curry house at the end of their road. Her father would sit at the top of the table like Don Corleone, with his napkin tucked into his collar, and none of them was allowed to speak unless he asked a question. It wasn’t until she left that she realised she’d never felt comfortable at home. She misses her mum and wishes she’d kept in touch, but he probably made that impossible too.

The sound of rain begins to lessen. Water starts gushing out of the gutter at the corner of the house. Something else that needs fixing. She opens the carousel door and it comes off in her hand. ‘What the hell?’ The screws fall to the floor. Poppy sniffs at the packets of pasta and rice. ‘Get away,’ she shouts and props the door down the side of the fridge. A loud thud sounds above her head. She runs upstairs and bursts into the shower room. Jamie covers himself with his hands. Bottles of shampoo and shower gel have fallen onto the cubicle floor. The shelf has come clean out of the wall.

‘How did you manage that?’ she asks, passing him a towel.

‘I didn’t touch it. It just fell and nearly hit me.’ He steps past her, onto the mat.

‘I’ll sort it out later,’ she says and stomps back downstairs.

The pan on the hob is fizzing, the water bubbles up and splashes over.

‘Jesus Christ! Where the hell are you, Adam?’ she shouts.

While Jamie’s eating, Alison goes upstairs. She’s not hungry and will grab a snack later. She doesn’t see the point in dusting, but she does it now and then to keep Adam happy or when she’s agitated. While she is wiping the bookcase at the top of the stairs, she comes across the photo frame edged with ceramic teddy bears. The picture of Jamie as a baby has gone. Shock shoots through her. The back of the frame is neatly secured. It was there yesterday. She doesn’t know why but she shivers.